


dépendance à l'amour

by doitsushine92



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorders, Everyone Has Issues, Gen, Heavy Drinking, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Past Character Death, Substance Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21535249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doitsushine92/pseuds/doitsushine92
Summary: Ten drinks to forget, Jaehyun smokes to get through the day, Taeyong stops eating in hopes of reaching an unreachable goal and Johnny learns the hard way that he can't save everyone.The only good thing to come out of all of this is each other.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Jungwoo, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong, Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 20
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello, welcome to my new story! according to my calculations, this fic should take 10 chapters, but i wouldn't count on it since fics always run away from me
> 
> this story will handle some pretty heavy issues, such as drinking problems, eating disorders, dependency issues, past abuse, past character death, among others. it will also explore the relationships among all four main characters, both romantic and platonic. you are all welcome to tell me who you're rooting for the endgame, and who knows, you might even change my mind!
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!

“So, the heater’s busted.”

So it is. The air inside the apartment is sticky today, but no doubt a week from now the chill will begin and their asses will be on the line. Taeyong rolls over in bed, still sore from his shift the previous night, and gazes at the device in the corner of the room. Johnny bends over it, a monkey’s wrench in his hand. Taeyong’s skin is clammy from the heat and he dreads to think of the following days. He can see Johnny’s hair is splattered over his forehead, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face and towards the dip of his collarbones.

“How much do you think it’ll be to get it fixed?” Taeyong blinks repeatedly and drags his hand over his face, getting rid of the crust in the corner of his eyes. God, his head is killing him. He needs a shower, an aspirin and a nap. “Think we can afford it?”

Johnny snorts. It’s all the answer Taeyong needed even if he already knew it was coming. Of course, they can’t afford to fix their heater - they can barely feed themselves. A dust bunny has settled on the ground next to the mattress and Taeyong resists the urge to find their duster, because he doesn’t think he could handle to stand up. It’s hard enough to keep his eyes open as it is and his pillow is calling his name.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Johnny says, but there isn’t much hope in his voice. He’s probably thinking the same thing Taeyong is: thinking about how many days they have left before winter. It’s been an exceptionally warm autumn, but Taeyong doesn’t doubt the winter will be as unforgiving as it always is. Johnny stands from his crouched position and stretches, groaning as something cracks. “I’m gonna be late for work.”

Taeyong watches him disappear behind the beads curtain that leads to their bathroom. The curtain was Johnny’s idea, an illusion of privacy in their two-space apartment. Taeyong can still see everything from their corner mattress, and he turns back to the wall to give Johnny his space. He tries to go back to sleep – he isn’t needed today, according to a call from Chungha, and he intends to take advantage of that – but now there are too many worries in his mind for sleep.

On top of the broken heater, which they _will_ have to fix, one way or another, there’s the matter of rent. And utilities and groceries, which all need to be paid. Johnny’s car, their only mean of transportation, has been making increasingly worrying noises and Taeyong fears it will break down for good. So far, it’s only left Johnny stranded twice and Taeyong once, and on all of those occasions they were able to get it back to work with water on the radiator or by asking someone to give it a jump start, but Taeyong knows one of these days that won’t be enough. Johnny insists he can fix it, how he always does, but Taeyong doesn’t think tape and old parts from the shop will be enough this time.

The sound of running water ticks away at Taeyong’s patience. The headache worsens with every second and Taeyong wants nothing else but to disappear under the covers, a trick that usually works for him, but now it isn’t an option unless he wants to suffer a heat stroke. Thankfully, Johnny is out of the shower and hopping into his jeans before Taeyong starts to cry. The mattress dips under Johnny’s weight and Taeyong rolls to look at him as he puts on his shoes.

“I should be back before midnight,” Johnny says, double knotting his laces. Taeyong hums his understanding and closes his eyes. Johnny smells like apple shampoo and the good soap – virtually, the only fancy item they allow themselves to have – and the scent clouds Taeyong’s senses when Johnny leans over to kiss his forehead. “Eat, please. I made you a sandwich and left it on the counter. It’s wrapped.”

He’s still leaning over Taeyong. Taeyong can feel the body heat coming off of him, can hear him perfectly even if he’s murmuring. “Taeyong. Promise me you’ll eat, baby.” He can also hear the plea in his voice. That’s why he doesn’t open his eyes when he nods. Johnny sighs and then he’s gone, taking the scent of roses with him. There’s a tinkle of keys and their apartment door opens and closes, the apartment left in silence.

Taeyong dozes for a few hours, gets out of bed around five o’clock and takes a shower. He cuts it short because he doesn’t want their water bill to go too high this month, yet it’s enough for him to feel slightly better, his wet hair keeping him cool for a while. There’s aspirin on the medicine cabinet and Taeyong knocks back two of them with coffee, then goes back to bed.

He considers eating the sandwich. He sits at the kitchen table – it’s generous to call it such, a simple plastic table with two chairs in the middle of the kitchen – and stares at the sandwich for an eternity. His stomach aches and his head swims, because he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast the day before, but he can’t bring himself to take more than two bites. In the end, he gives the rest of it to their neighbour’s dog, a stray hybrid she recently took in. When the pains in his stomach become too much, he chugs more coffee and tries his best to ignore them. When that doesn’t work, he goes back to bed.

~

Johnny isn’t back before midnight. In fact, he isn’t back long after that. Taeyong paces their tiny space in worry, biting his nails until they’re raw. His phone broke weeks ago and the phone company disconnected their landline long before that, after months of not paying the bill. If it’s an emergency, they will just go to their neighbour’s and borrow her phone, but it is 3am and the opportunity to do that passed long ago. Taeyong has two options: wait inside the apartment or go outside to look for him.

The second option isn’t appealing in the slightest, but Taeyong feels he might go stir crazy if he stays in any longer. He’s dug a hole on the floor of the apartment with his feet, no longer seeing the things around him. Taeyong doesn’t register the ratty couch or the recliner, nor does he notice he’s shifted the carpet with his restless pacing. The clock in their kitchen, a gift from one of Johnny’s co-workers on his birthday, ticks every minute and threatens to steal Taeyong’s sanity.

Finally, Taeyong’s panic wins out and he shrugs on his jacket, then dons Johnny’s coat for an extra layer. His pants aren’t particularly warm but he doesn’t have the time to care about that, only slaps on his boots and leaves. He takes the stairs two at a time, his legs carrying him without him thinking about it. Taeyong’s body begins to work on autopilot while the possibilities run rampant in his head.

Johnny’s job isn’t dangerous. He’s a mechanic, for crying aloud. He works the afternoon shift at a shop, constantly smells like car oil and comes home covered in black streaks. The worst thing that could happen to him is a car falling on him and –

No. Taeyong shakes the image out of his mind, shivering in the night breeze. That’s never happened to anyone in the shop and it certainly won’t happen to Johnny. That kind of shit only happens in movies and books, not in real life. Johnny’s car probably broke down somewhere on his way home. Maybe he went out for drinks with his friends. Hell, maybe he met someone and went home with them, and he’ll be back in the morning and Taeyong will feel silly for worrying.

If that’s the case, Taeyong can’t wait for morning to come.

Nevertheless, and in spite of every rational thought that fights tooth and nail to make the headlines in his brain, Taeyong retraces the path to Johnny’s work. The streets are empty, but not entirely quiet. He can hear cars in the distance, an ambulance racing past, a baby crying from a first floor window. A dog barks at Taeyong as he walks past it but doesn’t do more than that. The moon hangs low in the sky, beginning its descent for the sun to take over in a few hours. Taeyong checks his watch and sees it is 4am now.

A chill runs down Taeyong’s back and he shivers for the nth time. His headache is back with a vengeance and his stomach hurts; it has, after all, only a handful of cups of coffee and a loaf of bread he had to fight to keep in. The nausea didn’t disappear – it never seems to go away – but at last, Taeyong could say he wouldn’t throw up. Taeyong shoves his shaky hands into the coat’s pockets and buries his nose in the collar, which smells so much like Johnny it makes his head spin and his eyes water.

Taeyong knows he’s exaggerating, but he can’t bear to think about losing Johnny. Johnny’s the sole reason he’s here, still kicking and screaming, and Taeyong _isn’t_ exaggerating when he says he owes Johnny his life.

He passes the place he works in. The street is silent, so working hours are over for the night. The bouncer bolts the door every night before he leaves, though Taeyong could still get in through the back door if he wanted to. He could use the phone in the office to call Johnny. He could also use a drink and the staff is sure to be inside, despite the late hour – they usually leave as the sun rises. Taeyong should know.

Taeyong makes up his mind and works his way to the back of the building. They keep this door locked, yes, but Taeyong has the key. He’s struggling with the keychain, the loop stubbornly stuck on his jeans, when the door swings open. Taeyong staggers back, surprised, and finds he’s face to face with Ten. There’s still glitter on Ten’s cheeks and nose, and his hair remains gelled up, but his face is void of makeup and he’s dressed in simple cardigan and jeans, beat up sneakers on his feet.

“Taeyong,” Ten blinks in surprise. He opens his mouth, probably about to ask what he’s doing there, but it snaps shut at the sight of Taeyong’s shivering frame and he only steps aside to let him inside.

Taeyong walks down the unlit hall. He knows the place by heart, has walked this path countless times, and knows when to duck his head and when to step to the side to avoid the garbage can. At the end of the hallway are two doors: one leads to the staff quarters, the dressing rooms and the office, the other leads to the main floor. Taeyong goes through that one and nods in greeting to the workers still in.

Dami is at the bar’s counter, wiping down stains of alcohol and who knows what else. Sat around a table in the middle of the floor are tonight’s workers: Jinyoung has his short legs thrown on the table; Chungha has a lit cigarette between her lips, her eyes closed; an empty seat, which Ten must have occupied until minutes ago. Dongyoung is counting a stack of bills, his lips moving with each number. The newest hire, baby Jinyoung, is up on the main stage, mopping from side to side. Dongyoung hasn’t allowed him on the spotlight yet and Taeyong knows he won’t for a while, not until he’s older. Not until Dongyoung feels comfortable with the idea of sending him to the lion’s den.

“The fuck you doing here?” older Jinyoung asks in lieu of a greeting. It would result more threatening if Taeyong didn’t tower over him and knew his weak tickle spots. Jinyoung’s tips bulge his pockets. “Isn’t it your day off?”

Taeyong only offers, “Johnny isn’t home yet,” then downs the glass shot Dami slides his way. It burns a line down his throat and Taeyong grimaces, slamming the tiny glass back on the counter. “He said he’d be back before midnight but it is 4am and he isn’t back yet.”

A tense silence settles over the room. Even Jinyoung stops mopping, black hair flopping over his eyes. Dami silently pours him another one. Ten, who’d come back inside with him, makes a noise at the back of his throat and approaches him. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Taeyong looks at him out of the corner of his eye. He’s suddenly angry, a kind of anger he isn’t used to feeling, and he spits out, “No, Ten, our place is so fucking big he might have come back and I never noticed.”

A flash of hurt passes over Ten’s face. Taeyong instantly feels bad – Ten and Johnny are close so of course Ten is worried for him. Taeyong feels like an asshole, yet he can’t help but think that there’s no way Ten’s worry comes close to his. Taeyong thinks he might suffocate if he doesn’t see Johnny, pronto.

“Sorry,” Taeyong murmurs, because he isn’t that much of an ass. This time, Dami hands him her phone, already unlocked, instead of a drink. She says, “Call him, and if he doesn’t answer I’ll go with you to the shop.”

Taeyong gives her as much of a smile as he can muster and takes the phone. It’s old generation, the screen cracked in three different places. There’s a ladybug charm hanging from a corner. Taeyong dials Johnny’s familiar number and presses the phone to his ear, his heart threatening to abandon him. It doesn’t ring, only beeps in signal Johnny’s phone is off, and Taeyong moans in dismay.

“His phone is turned off,” he whispers. Spots dance in front of his eyes. Dongyoung is at his side in a second, taking the phone from his hands before it falls to the ground. His boss hands the phone back to Dami and rubs Taeyong’s back, albeit awkwardly. “What if something happened to him?”

“I’m sure Johnny’s okay,” Dongyoung reassures him. It falls flat. “Come on, let’s go to the shop.”

Taeyong lets them lead him back to the street. Chungha has a new cigarette in her lips and she offers a stick to Taeyong, which he takes after a moment’s hesitation. He’s never been a big smoker – of all his vices, this isn’t one of them – and the smoke burns his throat, not unlike the alcohol did. It’s different, however, because the alcohol had been a pleasant burn, but the cigarette leaves his lungs feeling black.

Dongyoung is speaking to the rest of them. “Big Jinyoung, take little Jinyoung home,” in Taeyong’s mind, he snorts at the irony, “make sure he’s in safe.”

Immediately, both of them protest. Older Jinyoung demands he wants to go with them, baby Jinyoung insisting he doesn’t need a babysitter. “And besides, hyung’s upset. I want to go with.”

There isn’t time to argue. One look at Taeyong tells Dongyoung he’s about to have a collapse and he doesn’t want to be there to witness it. So, Dongyoung pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves a great sigh, silently caving in. Their little group takes off, huddled together for warmth, Taeyong in the middle because he’s the one that seems to be shaking the most. They know it has nothing to do with the cold.

Dami grumbles something about how she shouldn’t have worn her heels tonight. There are still four blocks to go and Taeyong has enough presence of mind left to feel bad for her feet. Dongyoung offers to give her a piggyback ride and she snorts - so much how Johnny did earlier in the day and Taeyong has to blink repeatedly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Dami teases. Taeyong dumps the stump of his cigarette on the ground and steps on it as he keeps walking, already wishing for another one. He abstains from asking for one, though.

“Stop flirting,” older Jinyoung groans.

“Here, here,” baby Jinyoung agrees.

Taeyong doesn’t hear any of it. He’s thinking about the last thing Johnny said to him – “Promise me you’ll eat,” – and how Taeyong had said yes. Then didn’t. Johnny wanted him to be healthy, wanted him to eat, for fuck’s sake, and Taeyong couldn’t do that one thing. Johnny has noticed his new habit of not eating, or of eating the bare minimum to go through the day, and is making an effort to pull him out before it grows worse. Taeyong appreciates the thought, mostly because he can’t remember the last time anyone was so thoughtful towards him, but he doesn’t think there’s a problem.

Chungha stops without warning. Taeyong slams into her, about to ask what’s wrong, when Chungha says, “There’s the shop.”

“And there’s Johnny’s car,” older Jinyoung says.

It is. The stupid Plymouth, with its rusty side mirrors and the broken handle on the passenger’s side, sitting on the side of the road. There’s an overturned trash bin on the sidewalk, its contents spilled on the ground for everyone to see.

For reasons unknown, Taeyong remembers the day Johnny bought the car. It had been sitting on the lawn of some old geezer, busted and looking better fit for a demolition derby than for the road. Johnny had fallen in love with it instantly, coughed up the seven hundred something the owner asked for it, and spew promises to Taeyong about how he could get it back to prime shape himself. Taeyong had eyed the car warily, his mind doing calculations at top speed of all the things Johnny could have bought instead of it, and said nothing.

He hadn’t been lying. Maybe it isn’t perfect now, but it did work most of the time, and Taeyong no longer felt terrified just looking at it. Sure, it makes strange noises, takes forever to warm up and it kicks when driven up a hill, and it smells funny in spite of all the car fresheners they use, but it gets them around and Johnny loves it with a stupid intensity. Tonight, Taeyong feels a wave of relief upon its sight. Wherever that car goes, Johnny goes.

Taeyong pushes past the tight ring of people around him. He doesn’t run, because he doesn’t think his legs would hold him up, but he speed walks to the shop. The front is a ghost town, all the lights turned off and the door tightly closed; however, Taeyong can see the light in the back office is still on.

With no regards for anyone or anything else, Taeyong bangs his fist on the door. The metal rattles under his force and makes a hollow sound, like a piece of bond paper when it flaps in the air. Something crashes to the ground inside the shop and Taeyong’s heart pounds in anticipation. Behind him, his friends gather in a loose circle, Dami leaning on Dongyoung’s side to alleviate the pinpricks on her feet.

The door opens with a rusty screech. Johnny stands there, his hair sticking up all over the place, a red mark on his cheek. He looks like he just woke up. He looks disgustingly normal, mundane, and as if nothing’s wrong. Taeyong punches him in the chest.

It isn’t a strong punch – there is barely any strength left in his body after all the events of the night – but it gets his point across. Johnny rubs the spot with a confused expression, looking like he’s trying to process the entire situation.

“Tae? What’s going on? Why did you hit me?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Jonathan?” Taeyong demands. He fights the urge to squint his eyes behind the force of his headache, aware he has to keep his voice down in this neighbourhood. “It’s so late, why the hell didn’t you come home? Or at least call? Why is your phone off?”

Johnny looks from Taeyong to the rest of them. He’s waking up quick, probably thanks to the hit he took to the chest, and understanding falls on his face, followed by guilt. Dongyoung thinks this is their cue to leave, herds his employees away after a final, “Good to see you’re alive, John.” Ten lingers longer, wanting to stay back, but he sees how Taeyong is absolutely seething and decides he doesn’t want to be here for that. He could always swing by their place later. If Johnny is still alive by then, of course. There’s a big chance Taeyong will kill him.

“I was so fucking worried, you ass!” Taeyong hits Johnny again. Johnny takes the hit with a grunt. “You said you’d be home by midnight, but you weren’t.” Taeyong sniffs, the tears he held back all night finally falling free.

Johnny grabs Taeyong’s hand before it can hit him once more, then steps back and leads Taeyong through the shop to the back office. Taeyong goes in silence, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his coat – Johnny’s coat – and sniffling to himself. They pass rows of cars in varying degrees of disarm, an unused neon sign on the floor and discarded tools. Taeyong nearly slams his feet into a crowbar left carelessly and glares at Johnny’s back, blaming him for it. He’s petty.

“So?” Taeyong asks once they’re in the office. “What happened?”

Taeyong moves a stack of papers aside and takes a seat on the dusty couch. The office isn’t much in regards of, well, anything. There’s a coffee maker on a tiny table in the corner and a desk stacked full of paperwork, file cabinets behind the chair about to overflow. The room smells distinctly like coffee, with a hint of oil permeating through the air, and there’s a suspicious stain on the grey, old carpet.

The desk has a Johnny’s head shaped space in the middle. That, coupled with the bed-hair and Johnny’s disorientation, tells Taeyong all he needs to know. “You fell asleep in here?” Taeyong asks. It’s a lot gentler this time, maybe because he knows how it is to be so tired that you just drop wherever you are.

Johnny falls on the desk chair with a heavy sigh. The dark bags under his eyes become more prominent and Taeyong feels like an ass for being so angry with him. An empty mug sits on the desk, next to Johnny’s phone. Johnny reaches for it and tries to unlock it, but the screen stays dark. Johnny sighs again, although this time it sounds more like a grunt, and he rolls to the far wall to plug it in.

Johnny grumbles, “Well, obviously that thing’s dead,” more to himself than to Taeyong. “I’m sorry, Tae, I should have called you earlier. I actually meant to do it, but…”

“What happened?” Taeyong repeats.

“The boss, Mr. Kwon,” Johnny’s eyes cut to Taeyong, seeing if he knows whom he’s talking about, “He’s retiring this week. He’ll still own the shop but he won’t come in, at least not as often as he does now. He left me in charge of the place.”

A stunned silence follows. Taeyong cheers, “Johnny, that’s great! I’m so proud of you,” he adds, raw sincerity in his voice. However, as Johnny’s figure remains slumped over, Taeyong frowns. “This is good news, right? Shouldn’t I feel happy?”

“No, it is good news,” Johnny nods fervently, running a hand over his face, “and thank you. It’s just that there’s a lot of work to get done. Mr. Kwon isn’t exactly the tidiest man I’ve met and he’s behind on so much paperwork. I meant to stay for a little while, work through the most urgent ones and then go home, but it piled up on me and I fell asleep.”

Taeyong winces. “That much, huh? I didn’t know.”

Johnny shrugs, fixing stray pink slips on the desk. He tries to tame his hair, but it continues to stick up stubbornly, something he doesn’t realise until Taeyong smiles at him as if he were something particularly endearing. Johnny smiles back and gets up from the chair, weaving his way through the mess on the office to where Taeyong is. He sits with him, thigh to thigh, and takes Taeyong limp hand in his.

“I don’t mind the paperwork, though. This, _promotion,_ it should mean more income. Who cares about a few extra hours?”

“I care,” Taeyong frowns at him. “I hate seeing you so tired,” he murmurs, combing back Johnny’s hair so it isn’t all on his forehead.

“I’ll be tired while I get used to it,” Johnny assures him, “after that, it’ll be just like always. And I’ll try not to stay here so long. I’m sorry I worried you like that.”

Taeyong shakes his head. “Stop apologizing. I overreacted, anyway. I should have known you were working late, I just freaked out over nothing. I even made the guys come with me here.” Taeyong groans internally – God, he really made a fool of himself, didn’t he?

“You didn’t overreact,” Johnny says, “and it’s nice to know you wouldn’t let me die on a ditch.”

“Don’t go around getting ahead of yourself, there, Mr. Seo,” Taeyong jokes.

Johnny pushes his grinning face away and stands up. He begins to gather his things in his arms, makes a quick scan of the office and motions Taeyong to follow him back out. Taeyong does him the favour of locking the doors behind them while Johnny balances a pile of crap – that’s what it looks like to Taeyong, anyway – in his arms.

In the car, Taeyong slides to sit pressed against Johnny. Johnny can’t exactly drive with one hand, so Taeyong has to settle for his body warmth and nothing else. His eyelids grow heavier with every second and Johnny is sure Taeyong falls asleep a few times during the car ride, but Taeyong denies it every time. “I’m just resting my eyes,” he says.

They stop at three red lights, in spite of Taeyong insisting there’s, “literally no one around, John.” Johnny ignores him and fiddles with the radio knob, looking for a station playing anything that won’t immediately put him to sleep at the wheel. Most stations are playing generic lo-fi music, probably a YouTube playlist left on loop. Johnny worked enough radio when he was younger to know it’s more common than it seems.

The sun is beginning to peak over the horizon when they pull into the parking lot. Well, it’s not so much of a parking lot, just a slab of stone next to the building they live in. Taeyong groans with every step up the stairs, his muscles screaming in protest. Tonight was his first night off in a week but, instead of staying home, wrapped in blankets and sleeping, he’d gone on a wild goose hunt across town. Well, he’s paying the price now. Everything aches.

“Are you hungry?” Taeyong asks, leaving his coat on the rack by the door. He and Johnny have to squeeze together in the front hallway to discard the layers of clothing and shoes, but Taeyong missed him so much he can’t complain. “You can shower while I make you something.”

“Did you eat?” Johnny shoots back. His eyes tell Taeyong he already knows the answer and he’s just looking for honesty. Taeyong chews on his bottom lip and doesn’t say anything, avoiding eye contact like the plague. Johnny sighs, heavier than he has all night. “Tae, you need to eat something. You can’t go on like this.”

“I’m fine, John.” Why can’t he just trust Taeyong? He knows what he’s doing, he’s eating once a day – more than he should, if he’s being honest – and it’s only a matter of putting up with the pains in his stomach. And those go away if he distracts himself with something else, unlike Johnny, who only grows more persistent the longer Taeyong goes ignoring him. “Are you gonna eat something or not?”

Johnny’s eyes search Taeyong’s face. Whatever he was looking for, he either doesn’t find it or simply doesn’t like it, because he turns away without saying another word. A pang of pain stabs Taeyong, but this time it goes straight through his heart and he scrambles to follow Johnny into the bathroom. Johnny is chucking off his clothes, throwing them messily on the hamper they keep between the shower and toilet. He doesn’t grant Taeyong a single look as he undresses and steps under the showerhead, only regarding him once Taeyong climbs in after him.

“What are you doing?” Johnny asks. He sounds tired, beyond exhausted.

“I’m taking a shower, obviously.” Not a drop of water has landed on Taeyong. The shower stall is too small for the two of them, but at least Taeyong doesn’t take up too much space anymore and he can fit perfectly in the space between Johnny and the wall. The showerhead spurts a sad stream of water and hits Johnny’s back continuously.

The pretence of shower lasts less than three minutes, far longer than Taeyong would have liked. Johnny waits for Taeyong to squeeze past him while reaching for the soap and kisses him with strength he hasn’t kissed him with in a long time. Except, while Taeyong relishes on the skin on skin contact and presses as close as he can, unable to recall the last time they had time to enjoy each other, Johnny is internally horrified at the thinness of the body in his arms and berating himself for not doing anything sooner.

Later, after their fingers have turned to raisins and they’re finally in bed, Taeyong curls under Johnny’s body and the blankets, his hair still dripping wet and feeling like things aren’t so bad, after all. His headache is even gone, thank goodness, and he slips into dreamland with surprising ease. Johnny, on his end, lays awake for nearly two hours, his mind going rampant with waking nightmares.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello good evening to all you wonderful people giving this fic a chance

The weather isn’t much better the next morning. Taeyong feels as sticky as he did the day before, except this time he has a heavy arm thrown over him and Johnny’s extra body heat. At first, he can’t figure out why he’s awake if the alarm hasn’t gone off, ready to drift off again, but then he hears the rapping on their front door.

“If you don’t open this door, I’ll just pick the lock,” Ten’s muffled voice comes through the wood. Taeyong makes some garbled sound that’s meant to be a reply before dragging himself out of the mattress and across the room. He swings the door just in time to see Ten begin to crouch in front of their lock, a hair pin in hand. Ten offers him a sheepish smile, until his eyes land on Taeyong’s chest and he whistles, annoyingly so. “The fuck happened to you, you got mauled by a bear?”

“Stop comparing me to animals,” Johnny groans, face down on the thin pillows. “It’s not funny anymore.”

Ten doesn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, he saunters inside their tiny studio apartment and launches on top of Johnny, which results in an ‘oomph’ from Ten and an annoyed groan from Johnny. Taeyong closes the door, bolts it for double measure, and returns to the bed. Their electric fan blasts the living room with a light breeze, only enough to keep Taeyong off the brink of sanity. Johnny rolls to the side, dragging Ten with him, and Taeyong takes back his spot by the wall.

“You know, I kinda missed you last night,” Ten confesses quietly. “It was hell putting up with Dongyoung on my own.”

Taeyong snorts. Ever since he’s known them, Ten and Dongyoung have spent a certain amount of time posturing in front of each other, something that Taeyong doesn’t understand and would rather stay out of, if he can. There’s no actual heat fuelling the arguments, and he’s never seen them stay mad longer than a shift, and it’s a bit of an inside joke at the club. Dami argues it’s sexual tension, laughing when Dongyoung gives her an affronted look.

Johnny crawls out of bed then. He didn’t wear much other than his underwear to bed and Taeyong watches as Ten trails his eyes all over Johnny’s bare back with interest. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand just what in the hell those two have going on between them, either. Sometimes Johnny and Ten will disappear in Ten’s apartment for days, sometimes Ten will stay with them and it’s. Something, all right.

They both stare at Johnny for a few minutes while he makes coffee and tries to salvage something from their fridge, then Ten turns around and pokes Taeyong in the chest, right on one of the bigger marks. Taeyong hisses and tries to recoil, but Ten corners him against the wall and he has nowhere left to go. Ten continues to press down on the hickeys, each time with increasing strength until Taeyong has to choke down a moan and grab his wrists.

“Looks like you two made up last night,” Ten says. He’s smiling a half-grin and looking at the hickeys. “I was worried for nothing, I guess.”

“Why were you worried?” Taeyong asks. He lets go of Ten’s wrists and he immediately puts his hands back on Taeyong, except this time he doesn’t torture him, just traces Taeyong’s prominent collarbones with something akin to worry. “You know we never stay mad.”

Ten shrugs, as best as he can, giving how he’s lying on his side. “You seemed really angry last night, that’s all. I was hesitant to leave you two alone, thinking you’d end up killing him or something.”

Taeyong snorts. As if. “I think Johnny could bench press me, but sure.” Ten doesn’t laugh how he expected him to, though. He says, “Yeah, probably.”

“Anyone wants some coffee?” Johnny asks. He doesn’t need to raise his voice at all, the kitchen a mere three steps from the mattress. “We still have sugar left, Yong, if you want.”

After breakfast, while Johnny goes off to shower, Taeyong and Ten go back to bed. They roll around for a few minutes, Ten interested in seeing how many of Taeyong’s buttons he can push and Taeyong letting him. The final bite stings a little, just a few centimetres shy off Taeyong’s heart. Taeyong moans and scratches at Ten’s back, just in time for Johnny to come out of the bathroom. Johnny spares them a glance, whistles how Ten did earlier, and goes back about his business.

“Please get your leech away from me,” Taeyong mutters. He doesn’t mean it for real, because he actually enjoys having Ten draped over him, but he wishes he wouldn’t be so handsy. Johnny crawls back to bed, now dressed in sweatpants and a thin t-shirt, and he does take Ten away. They entertain each other while Taeyong ducks into the bathroom and showers, rubbing the soap bar all over his body in hopes to get rid of the sweat accumulated during the night. The water fluctuates from warm to cold, back and forth, and Taeyong jumps away from the blast more than once to avoid hypothermia.

When Taeyong steps out of the bathroom, wearing his boxers and with the towel around his shoulders, Ten is saying, “And, I met my new neighbour. Do you remember how the apartment across the hall from mine has been empty since the beginning of time? Now it isn’t.”

Johnny, as he tries to wrestle his jeans over his wet legs, asks, “Are they nice?”

“I don’t know about nice, but he’s hot.”

“Did you even introduce yourself or did you just ogle at him like a creep?” Johnny snorts.

“I introduced myself!” Ten squawks indignantly. “I was the picture perfect poster boy for friendly neighbour. And for your information, his name is Jaehyun. He’s tall and handsome and lives with his best friend Jungwoo. Also hot.”

“Love the information,” Taeyong says. He doesn’t bother with clothes and only fishes a blue sweatshirt from their pile of clean clothes, going back to bed after that. Ten is wearing one of his fancier shirts, probably from before he moved to Korea, one with a flowery pattern around the collar. Ten and Taeyong wrestle over the pillows, kicking at each other until they’re both comfortable.

Before he leaves, Johnny allows them to drag him down to their level. Ten kisses him first, all teeth and tongue, biting on Johnny’s lip until Johnny groans and pulls away. Taeyong, however, lets Johnny pick the pace, their tongues gliding together smoothly as they have for years. After the door shuts behind him, Taeyong is fully prepared to nap with Ten, except Ten has another idea.

“We need to talk,” Ten says. He sounds more serious than Taeyong has ever heard him before and that’s why he sits up in bed.

“Is everything okay?” Taeyong asks. He doesn’t like seeing Ten looking so worried and he doesn’t like where this is going, either. “Did something happen?”

Ten opens his mouth, falters. Taeyong watches him gulp and hesitate for some seconds, and then he says cautiously, “Dongyoung told me the club is switching locations. It’s supposed to be a secret so don’t tell anyone else, but he told me last night. I’m just worried about what it might mean for us.”

Taeyong doesn’t believe him for a second. He _knows_ there’s something else entirely that’s bothering Ten, but he doesn’t wish to push him if he isn’t ready to talk about it. So Taeyong eats up his words and only asks, “Is it gonna be a better place?”

“Mhm, it should be, it’s in Itaewon. Sure, not the pretty part, but at least it won’t be the dump we’re in right now.”

They discuss the club for a little while. Ten worries their usual clients, not to mention their better tippers, won’t want to follow the club to someplace else and they’ll lose the money, but Taeyong reassures him that no men that line up outside the club to see Ten will let him go that easily. It puts Ten in a better mood, at least. Stroking his ego a little never hurt anyone, Taeyong thinks.

~

They browse the aisles of the tiny convenience store around the corner. Ten pushes the cart, leaning his weight on the metal rail and dragging his toes across the floor while Taeyong examines the shelves carefully and picks out the things they need. They’re on a tight budget, but if there’s one thing Taeyong doesn’t like to cut back on, it is food. Sure, it isn’t as if he’s buying expensive platters of lamb chops or anything of the sort, but he indulges in medium quality meat and canned food.

Ten isn’t of much help. He seems more interested in poking at the bruises on Taeyong’s hips and waist through his clothes and smiling playfully whenever Taeyong hisses and squirms away. Taeyong doesn’t understand Ten’s strange fascination with playing with him, but he also doesn’t complain much. He likes having Ten’s attention on him, likes his hands on him. It’s nice.

“Do you think Dongyoung is ever gonna let Baejin on stage?” Taeyong asks, looking to make conversation.

Ten snorts. “Doie isn’t letting that kid near a pole until he’s at least twenty. You know how he gets, overprotective and shit.”

“Yeah but it’s not like he can keep him backstage for too long.” Taeyong peruses the expiration date on a can of tuna and ponders whether he should buy it or not. “Sooner or later he’ll have to let him dance, especially if we’re moving locations.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Ten agrees easily, “it’s just a matter of Dongyoung accepting that. Besides, we’ve already seen Jinyoung dance and he’s good. Seungyeon and Hyuna went over the basic hooks on the poles with him and he caught on quickly, and I saw him practicing big Jinyoung’s number last week. He might even be better than you, Tae,” Ten teases.

Taeyong doesn’t exactly mind that. Unlike Ten, he doesn’t particularly enjoy dancing at the club. He used to like to dance, back when he was a kid, but now it’s a job. And it’s a job he doesn’t like, at that. Taeyong knows that some of his co-workers like it to a certain degree – Ten is always exhilarated after his solos, and Jinyoung glows every time he’s on stage – but he figured out a long time ago this isn’t for him.

“I just think he should have something else,” Taeyong sighs, “but at least he’s not doing what I did when I was his age.”

Ten doesn’t say anything to that. Taeyong begins to lose himself in memories of the past, flashes of unbidden images darting in front of his eyes until Ten nudges him gently and pulls him out of his head. “Come on, let’s go pay or we’ll be late for work.”

At the counter, there’s only the clerk. His nametag reads SpearB, clearly a fake name, and the boy’s face exudes exactly how bored he is. Ten helps pile up the food on the rubber mill while Taeyong fishes his debit card out of his jean pockets. SpearB rings the items up, his mouth mechanically chewing on a piece of gum. A piece of paper stuck to the cash register captures Taeyong’s attention.

“Hey, is that still available?” he points to the ‘Help Wanted’ sign. SpearB nods and grunts something akin to an answer. Clearer, he says, “Yeah, it’s for the 6 am shift. It’s yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Taeyong asks. He thought they’d at least interview him. Of course, he’s not about to complain if they want to hire him.

SpearB nods again. “Yeah, no one ever wants it after they hear the hours. It’s 6 until noon, minimum wage and you get Saturdays off. If you want it, come by tomorrow morning with your papers and I’ll introduce you to the manager.”

“Cool, thanks,” Taeyong smiles. He finishes paying for the groceries and waves goodbye to the clerk, who waves back jerkily, clearly not expecting it. Ten rolls his eyes with a fond smile.

~

The dressing room is a mess that evening. It’s almost 8 pm, nearly two hours before the club opens and three before the crowd really starts to set in, and it isn’t enough time for everyone to get ready. Tonight, most of them are working, except for Yuri who’s on medical rest and Jinyoung, who’s once again on clean up duty. At the moment, he’s sweeping the floor outside the dressing room, avoiding the chaos inside.

Taeyong sits at his usual chair, eyeliner pencil in hand and wincing every time Dami yanks the brush over his hair. Dami _should_ be at the bar, probably, but everyone’s frazzled and Taeyong needed the extra hand. He can see the others through their reflections in the mirror, how Hyuna is on her back on the couch and wiggling her stockings over her legs, how Hyungwon is scowling at the blush palette in his hands while grumbling about how none of the colours fits him and Minhyuk applies body glitter all over himself with enthusiasm.

Chungha is running around topless, in search for her clothes, and Seungyeon is retouching her lipstick with her pinky finger. Ten sits next to Taeyong, his outfit perfect and his makeup still to go, because he and Taeyong share their makeup bag and Taeyong is currently the one using it.

In the midst of Dami ripping half of his scalp clean off his skull, Dongyoung walks into the room, a new face in tow. The newcomer is on the shorter side, handsome, but helplessly young. He mustn’t be much older than baby Jinyoung. Dongyoung brings him to the middle of the room, where the boy stands with his head bowed and his eyes trained on the ground. It’s then that Taeyong realises most of them are still more or less naked. Jinyoung used to be shy, too, but after countless times of seeing them shed their clothes on stage, he can hold a conversation with any of them without blinking an eye.

“Everyone, can I please have your attention.” It isn’t a request. Taeyong meets Dongyoung’s eyes through the mirror and smiles. “This is Byunggon, he’s our new bartender. He’s gonna be working alongside Dami from now on.” Dongyoung claps Byunggon on the back in a friendly matter. Byunggon stumbles forward under the strength and rights himself up immediately, his cheeks tinted pink.

“Not to be rude,” Minhyuk calls out from his spot on Hyungwon’s lap while the boy does his eye makeup, and Taeyong knows there’s a big chance whatever he’s about to say will be rude, “but why would we need another bartender? Our bar’s small as shit.”

Dongyoung’s eyes swivel to Ten’s in surprise. Ten sends him a cheeky wink. “Wow, I didn’t believe you’d keep it to yourself.”

“Nah, I told Taeyong,” Ten laughs. Taeyong smiles at Dongyoung again, this time more apologetic.

“Well, yeah, of course,” Dongyoung snorts, “I knew you’d tell him, I’m just surprised you didn’t tell literally everyone else.”

Ten makes an outraged noise, and his insult only aggravates when Dami says, “Ten, you know it’s true.”

“Anyway,” Dongyoung says, redirecting their attention to him, “I have news for you. The club’s changing locations. Suho thinks it will be better for business if we move someplace more concurred.”

 _Suho_ is Dongyoung’s boss. Taeyong has never met him, none of them has, nor do they know his real name, not even, what he looks like. Somewhere along the line, Taeyong figured it’s for their safety, so he never asked.

“Byunggon will come in every night for the next week to get a hold of the job,” Dongyoung continues, “and once we move to the new place, he’ll have his own station to work at. Be nice,” he adds, as a second thought warning.

Byunggon stands awkwardly where Dongyoung left him for a few seconds, until Hyuna claps his shoulder and asks, “Any chance you know how to tie a corset?”

“Alright, time for the body makeup,” Dami says. Taeyong stands up from his seat, pushing the face products in Ten’s direction before throwing his t-shirt to the ground. Dami eyes his naked torso with amusement, and someone – probably Minhyuk – whistles from the other side of the room. “Honey, you are going to drive everyone crazy tonight.”

Ten pokes some of the bruises with a shit-eating grin, saying, “I did this one, and this one, and this one,” as he goes.

An excited squeal from Hyuna takes the spotlight off Taeyong. Taeyong knows it’s Hyojong before he sees him, and not just because Hyuna could blow anyone’s eardrums out with her eagerness, but also because the delicious scent of pizza wafts through the air and makes everyone groan in anticipation. Hyojong’s short stature is hidden almost entirely behind the stack of pizza boxes, which he deposits on an empty chair. Hyuna can’t exactly run to him, because Byunggon is still tying the corset, but she extends her arms giddily for a hug.

Hyuna introduces Byunggon to her boyfriend, then to the rest of the crew. Taeyong thinks it’s cute how Jinyoung is quick to come to the rescue, under the excuse of showing him where they keep the clean glasses.

~

The harsh illumination of the spotlight used to blind Taeyong. He grew accustomed to it, over time, and now he thinks it’s more of a blessing, because he doesn’t have to look at the crowd. He can hear them, though, every cat call, every jeer and leer. Still, he prefers being up here than working the floors.

From his elevated position, he can see some of his friends. Ten’s on waiter duty tonight, hence why he has a little bit more clothes than the others do. His shirt is see-through and glittery and his pants leave virtually nothing to the imagination. Jinyoung is sulking by the bar, eyeing the stages with desire, but he perks up slightly when Byunggon slides closer to talk to him between clients.

Taeyong doesn’t have a solo number tonight. His job for the night is to entertain the patrons, and his mind wanders. He’s learned to dissociate during his shifts, and that’s exactly what he does, until a call of his name captures his attention.

Ten’s standing underneath him, a large grin on his face. “Look over there,” he mouths, pointing in the general direction of whatever he wants him to see.

And there’s Johnny. He’s sitting on a bar stool, being hit on left and right by Chungha and Dami, his smile bashful. He’s sporting a blush on his face, probably from alcohol, and his hair is dishevelled from the day. Taeyong’s heart stutters in his chest at the sight of him.

Taeyong loves it when Johnny comes to visit him. For one, he feels a million times safer knowing he’s around; he also doesn’t feel the need to shield his mind from what’s happening, because he can pretend he’s dancing for Johnny and Johnny only, and it helps him get more into it. Ten saunters away, tray full of empty glasses in hand, and he uses the excuse of getting more drinks to throw himself shamelessly on top of Johnny.

It’s almost as if he can physically feel the weight of Johnny’s eyes on him. Taeyong focuses on that and his body loosens up, his movements become more fluid and he knows he’s doing better, because the crowd goes wild for him. His hands are sweaty already and it feels uncomfortable against the pole, but Taeyong can easily ignore that.

A drop of sweat rolls down his forehead and into his eye and because there’s glitter on it, it effectively blinds him. Thankfully, the beat stops and a voice – Dongyoung’s – booms through the speakers, announcing a duet performance between Hyungwon and Minhyuk.

Taeyong is thankful for the break and he slides off the stage, focused on going for Johnny. At this point, his hips sway on their own accord, almost mechanically so, and Taeyong has to pretend he likes the hands that rub themselves over every inch of skin they get. He offers a sultry grin to one of his more common – not to mention, nicer – clients and makes a beeline for Johnny.

Johnny smells like sweat and car oil. Taeyong crowds in closer than necessary, burrowing his nose in Johnny’s neck and breathes him in. Johnny’s arms circle around his waist and he’s warm, so warm, Taeyong wants to stay there forever. He knows he can’t, though, and he pulls away with a pout.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung comes up beside them, water bottle in hand, “here, you must be thirsty.”

“Thank you, Jinyoung,” Taeyong ruffles his hair, smiling at Jinyoung’s annoyed groan.

Taeyong’s eyes move to the stage, where his friends are. He secretly finds it fascinating how good Hyungwon and Minhyuk look together, regardless of if they’re dancing or not. Hyungwon’s long, slender body is a stark contrast to Minhyuk’s sturdier form, and they move around each other as if they’re one. Hyungwon rubs the pad of his thumb over Minhyuk’s lower lip and the men in the club cheer louder; Taeyong doesn’t think he imagines the satisfied smirk on Hyungwon’s mouth.

“They look great together, don’t they?” Johnny asks. Taeyong and Jinyoung make sounds of affirmation – like Taeyong, Jinyoung’s eyes are glued to the stage.

Dami comes to their side for a split second, only to say, “I wonder if they’re fucking yet.”

Jinyoung snorts. “They are. I caught them making out the other day in the supply closet.”

“How much do you want to bet it was Minhyuk’s idea?” Taeyong asks.

“Oh, most definitely. Hyungwon hyung has more class than that.”

Johnny laughs loudly at that. Taeyong knows he’s laughing because he and Ten have done the same plenty of times, in the very same closet, but Taeyong keeps that piece of information for himself.

When it’s time to go back to work, Taeyong has to extricate himself from Johnny’s arms. And yet, as he climbs back on his tiny stage and hears the hoots and hollers of the crowd, he doesn’t hate it as much. Maybe it’s because he knows Johnny is waiting for him, maybe it’s because Ten swung by to let them know he’d be going home with them. Whatever it is, it fuels Taeyong with the strength he needs to pull through his shift.

~

He has no idea whose pair of lips is on his neck. Taeyong’s eyes are closed, his body exhausted but responsive to every touch. He knows Johnny is the one who’s working his fingers into him, because Ten’s fingers are a lot slender. Taeyong moans as Johnny’s fingers grace someplace nice inside him, and then there’s a tongue shoved down his throat. Taeyong has never been good at multitasking and he’s having the worst time trying to keep up with everything around him.

Johnny fists Taeyong’s cock with his free hand, the lube making an embarrassing squelching sound with every stroke up. Ten, definitely the one kissing him, nips at his lower lip before he pulls away and goes back to marking him up.

“John,” Taeyong gasps, his hips gyrating on their own as he fucks himself on Johnny’s fingers, “fuck, enough, enough, I’m ready.”

Ten puts some distance between them long enough for Johnny to slide his cock into him, and then he’s back, all over Taeyong. Johnny lays his back against the wall and takes Taeyong with him, so there’s enough space for Ten to straddle Johnny’s thighs and continue to kiss Taeyong like it’s all he wants to do.

Johnny and Ten are a startling difference. While Johnny fucks Taeyong slowly, with purpose, every drag of his cock against his walls meant to drive Taeyong just that bit closer to the edge, Ten kisses and ruts against him with abandon. Taeyong does his best to keep up with them, but soon enough he’s lost in the sensations. Ten’s grinding on Taeyong’s thigh, smearing precum all over him and panting against Taeyong’s mouth.

“Yonggie,” Ten whines, a clear sign he’s close. Taeyong’s hands find purchase on Ten’s slim waist and helps him ride him easier, his eyes droopy but still focused on every expression on Ten’s face. Johnny grunts in Taeyong’s ear, and that makes two people close to the edge. Actually, make that three, because just then, Johnny hits Taeyong’s spot and Taeyong swears he sees stars.

The only one not to make a mess is Johnny, and only because he has a condom on. Taeyong’s and Ten’s chest are covered in cum, as are their hands and Taeyong’s thigh, not to mention they’re all covered in sweat. Still, Taeyong feels sated and calm, and he likes how Ten cuddles into his chest while Johnny goes to fetch a wet towel to clean them up.

~

Taeyong has to slip away from their hold. He freaks out when he sees the hour and it’s almost 8am, but he had been cautious enough to leave his things on the table before leaving for his shift. He showers quickly but efficiently, then uses the corrector in the medicine cabinet to cover all the hickeys visible on his neck. Once he deems himself presentable enough, he leaves a note on the table letting them know where he’s gone to and slithers out the door.

The morning air is crisp, a tad cold. Taeyong knew winter wouldn’t take long to settle in and he was right, the sun hidden behind clouds even at this hour. Taeyong burrows deeper into his jacket and walks faster, eager to be in the warmth of the store.

There’s the same clerk working this time. Taeyong walks up to him and asks if he can speak to the manager now, to which SpearB nods and leads him to the back of the store, where an office is hidden from view.

The manager is a harried looking young man, with brown hair falling over his forehead. SpearB introduces him to Taeyong as Jaebum, but falters when he’s about to introduce Taeyong to him. “Shit, sorry, I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Taeyong,” Taeyong smiles pleasantly, “Lee Taeyong, nice to meet you.”

“Im Jaebum,” the manager bows back, almost distractedly so, “and this is Changbin. He told me you’d swing by today; you were interested in the 6am shift.”

“I am,” Taeyong nods, “sorry, I meant to come by earlier but my shift ended later than I expected and I overslept.”

Jaebum’s eyes go to Taeyong’s neck, where there must be something he missed, but he doesn’t say anything. He takes Taeyong’s papers from his hands, gives them an onceover and nods, apparently satisfied with what he sees. He tells Changbin to show him around the store and give him a rundown of how things work while he prepares Taeyong’s employee files, shooing them away with a distracted hand.

Changbin is friendly, in a strange kind of way. He’s constantly hunched over and his voice is low, but he doesn’t snap at Taeyong and explains everything to him, twice if needed. He also offers Taeyong good luck on his first day, tells him not to mind Jaebum if he acts like he has a stick up his ass and promises they’ll get to know each other better over the course of the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell i absolutely adore every idol on this fic because i do


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, sorry for the wait 😅 i'm struggling with this story because it's different to what i'm used to writing, but i hope you enjoy this update!

Sometimes, on the days that Taeyong finds himself waiting for Johnny to come home because his mind refuses to stay silent and there doesn’t seem to be anything to do that will help him go to sleep, he thinks he’s a lot like Bella in New Moon. He certainly spends plenty of time in front of their window, sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest and staring out into the distance.

After a while, he begins to fantasize whether Johnny would be Jacob or Edward, only to come to the conclusion he wouldn’t be neither. He rules out Jacob first, because unlike him, Johnny doesn’t think he’s entitled to Taeyong because he’s known him for years, nor does he question every decision he makes or tries to push him towards what _he_ wants, rather than what Taeyong wants. Next, he rules out Edward, because Johnny doesn’t consider Taeyong fragile or naïve, nor does he lecture him on the things he does. Also, and this is where Taeyong always ends in a fit of giggles, the ship of Johnny Seo’s virginity sailed a long time ago.

If anything, Taeyong comes to the conclusion that Johnny is more like Emmet. He’s playful, bold and fiercely protective of the people he loves. He’s also like Jasper in the way he’s so in tune with Taeyong’s emotions, sometimes knowing how he feels before Taeyong has even had the chance to open his mouth.

Whatever the case is, Taeyong watches Twilight a lot after that, and finds a newfound affection for the two Cullen brothers he didn’t have before. It’s in the midst of one of said marathons that, halfway through Eclipse, Johnny returns home after a twelve hour shift. He looks like he got ran over by a truck and then backed over twice, but he offers Taeyong a genuine, if small, smile in greeting before retreating to the bathroom.

Taeyong lets him shower in peace. There’s still less than half an hour left of the movie and Taeyong is more than happy to wait it out, curled up on their new couch. Johnny’s new position at work took a while to show funds, but over the last six months, there’s been a significant rise in their income, enough so they could afford to replace some of the older things in their apartment. The couch, for one, but also the heater and the coffee maker, not to mention they now have a bedframe. And a door to their bathroom.

Ten bought them new pillows for Johnny’s birthday, and Dongyoung sent them a new set of bed sheets and blankets. Taeyong told Dongyoung it wasn’t necessary, valiantly trying to pretend like there weren’t tears pricking at his eyes, but his boss waved him off without a glance. There had been the month’s pay checks in front of Dongyoung at the time, and Taeyong, not wanting to bother him, had scurried away, but not before he heard Dongyoung say, “Tell John I said happy birthday.”

It’s now April. There’s a gentle spring breeze coming in through the open window. Their neighbour gave birth in January and Taeyong can hear the baby wail for a moment, before the cries die down. Johnny exits the bathroom just as the ending credits begin to roll, towelling his hair dry with a hand towel and his t-shirt splattered to his chest with water. Taeyong has known of Johnny’s bad habit of dressing while still wet for years and yet it never ceases to surprise him.

“You know what’s missing from Twilight?” Johnny jumps over the back of the couch – no, doesn’t jump, he doesn’t need to with how tall he is, the fucker – and lands next to Taeyong. “A lover’s lane. What kind of American town doesn’t have a cliff or an empty lot where teenagers go to smooch?”

Taeyong’s eyes sparkle with curiosity. “You speak from experience?”

Johnny’s cheeks darken. He went to high school in America, Taeyong knows, and the only reason his Korean was so good when he and his family moved to Korea was because his parents insisted they spoke it when they were at home. On two occasions, he and Taeyong had celebrated Thanksgiving in their little apartment, however small their dinner was in comparison to the true American celebration.

“You don’t have to make it sound like that,” Johnny protests.

“So you _are_ speaking from experience.”

“Shut up,” Johnny laughs. “Yes, I am. I took a few girlfriends up to this hill, about a mile north from the school. Everyone knew what went down there, even if you didn’t exactly discuss it with anyone other than your friends.”

“Only girlfriends?” Taeyong asks.

Johnny nods. “Yeah, there weren’t any boys I liked in my class. Most of them didn’t shower.”

Taeyong barks out a laugh. “Gross,” he wrinkles his nose, as Johnny laughs along with him. Taeyong wiggles closer to Johnny, the long hours of waiting for him to come home urging him to be in close contact with him. It’s 7pm, which means Taeyong should be going to his shift right about now, but Johnny is warm and smells clean and Taeyong has missed him. Missed him a lot.

Johnny rubs Taeyong’s back with one hand, the other holding Taeyong’s nape how he knows Taeyong likes it. It’s grounding, Taeyong once said to him, and your hand is soft. “Don’t you have work?” Johnny asks him.

Taeyong groans miserably. “Yeah. I do. I don’t wanna.”

“Your day off was three days ago,” Johnny reminds him. “And you know Ten hates it when you don’t go.”

“I kinda want to ask you to come with,” Taeyong mumbles, “but I know you’re tired, so all I ask is you leave some room for me in that bed for when I get back.”

“I always leave room for you.”

“No, you spread out across the damn thing and I have to find the biggest space to squeeze in.”

Johnny wants to say that no, he doesn’t have to find the biggest space, not anymore, because Taeyong seems one harsh wind away from disappearing out of his sight. And he’s cold, all the time; Johnny has noticed it just as certainly as he’s noticed the bitten nails. Taeyong has been chewing on his nails until they’re raw, sometimes bleeding, and when he’s not he’s biting his knuckles.

There’s a litany of other things going around. For instance, there’s the crazy cooking: Taeyong, in spite of not eating anything, is cooking more often than before. Johnny sees him pack things in Tupperware and bring it to the club every night or to the shop for Johnny and his co-workers when Taeyong is on a day off. It’s the same most of the time, just simple things that they can afford, although they never taste anything less than perfect.

Johnny sighs. His mother says he worries too much, often times for nothing, but he doesn’t think it’s unfunded in this case. Taeyong’s arms are like chicken wings, a comparison that on any other day would be funny to him, except it isn’t now. His hair, already killed to hell from bleach and dye, is thinning terribly, and it feels scratchy under Johnny’s chin.

But it’s still Taeyong. It’s still Taeyong’s scent, of apple cider like his shampoo. It’s still Taeyong’s preferred soap, his preferred softener. It’s still Taeyong’s warmth and Taeyong’s body that he knows like the back of his hand. Johnny feels helpless to it all, and his mind refuses to make the connection between the frail thing in his arms and the memory he has of a past Taeyong.

It doesn’t feel real. Johnny doesn’t know what to do.

“I’ll go to the club later,” Johnny says softly. “I just need a nap first. I’ll be there after midnight, okay?”

“Mm, ‘kay,” Taeyong hums.

~

The new club is bigger. They had invited Johnny to the grand opening, expressly stated on a cream coloured piece of paper and written with a ballpoint pen in Doyoung’s handwriting. It had been a fun night; even if Johnny had spent his time at the bar, chatting up the new bartender Byunggon and batting away interested patrons with too lingering hands.

The main floor has more space, which means there are three small stages in addition to the main one, where the solo and duo numbers take place. Dongyoung invested in new furniture that matches with the classy air he was going for and the tables are made of glass, squeaky clean.

One of the first changes in management that Dongyoung implemented was themed nights. Tonight it’s the 1920s and the main floor is decorated in golden lights, the furniture a deep red and the music jovial. The dancers are straight out of a Gatsby party, with glitter and feathers and large smiles on their faces. Johnny dodges around a large group of drunken businessmen and approaches his usual spot by the bar, where Dami is already serving him a glass.

Taeyong’s working the floor tonight. He’s dressed more demure than usual in a silk silver shirt and black pants, his eyes lined with kohl and his lips shiny with lip-gloss. He swings by Johnny’s stool a few times an hour, offers him a grin or a short conversation before he has to go back to work, and Dongyoung stops during his laps around the room to ask Johnny for his opinion.

“As a patron.” Dongyoung leans against the bar, the lapels of his suit jacket held together by two buttons and his carefully combed hair already sticking up at random ends. Johnny resists the urge to fix it for him. “How do you think it looks? Any suggestions?”

“The drinks could be cheaper,” Johnny says. Dongyoung huffs out a breath through his nose in lieu of a laugh. “You should have a ladies’ night. And I think the lightning could use some work. Everything else works, though.”

Dongyoung nods in understanding. His eyes never leave the floor, however, where he’s keeping a careful look on his dancers. Some of the old patrons followed the club to the new location, as they predicted, but most of the clients are new and unfamiliar with the club’s privacy of “looky, no touchy.” Johnny sees Dongyoung tense just so when someone’s hands linger on big Jinyoung for too long, but the boy shakes them off with an easy-going grin before he’s off in the opposite direction.

“You know, you could always hire some bouncers to work on the floor,” Johnny suggests. There’s security in the front entrance, and while they stop fights from breaking out, they aren't around to keep the dancers safe. “I mean, if you’re so worried about the guys…”

“Know anyone looking for a job?” Dongyoung asks.

A light bulb goes on in Johnny’s mind. “Actually, yes. One of the boys in my shop, his name is Yukhei; he’s looking for a second job to cover his uni stuff. He’s tall, buff and looks like he could kill you with a hand.”

“But, could he actually?”

“The kid’s harmless most times but I think he’d do a good job,” Johnny admits, “I’ll give him your number and I’ll have him call you to set up an interview, yeah?”

“That sounds great. Thanks, John,” Dongyoung claps him on the shoulder once, and then he’s off to walk around some more.

Later, Dami shoos Johnny away from her station, claiming he’s scaring away the clients, and Johnny goes to sulk by Byunggon. Little Jinyoung is there, also sulking at a stool, and he cheers up when he sees Johnny.

“Hyung, come here!” he calls him over. “Please tell Byunggon hyung my head is shaped perfectly fine.”

“I’ve seen bread bigger than your head,” Byunggon deadpans. He’s drying a glass with a hand-towel, freshly dyed silver hair plastered to his forehead. The club’s air conditioning has been working on and off for a few days, and from what Johnny hears from Taeyong, it’s been like working in their own corner of hell.

Ten swings by around midnight. He looks pretty in his shimmery shirt and pants, and his hair cropped short as of this afternoon, so Johnny isn’t used to the look. He’s also wearing blue eye contacts, which really isn’t something Johnny appreciates very much.

“Hey, Tae says you and him are coming over to my place after our shift is over,” Ten says in lieu of a greeting. He places his tray on the counter and recites his order to Byunggon, who gets to work right away. Jinyoung says something about a spill in aisle 8 and sets off with his rag thrown over his shoulder, and that leaves Johnny alone with Ten.

“Am I supposed to just agree with your whims?” Johnny already knows the answer to this, he’s asking for argument’s sake. Ten shoots him a look and that’s all Johnny needs to know. He sighs, exasperated. “Fine. What’s the occasion?”

“I want you guys to meet my new neighbours,” Ten explains, loading his tray with the drinks Byunggon whips up. “It’ll be fun!”

~

Three hours later sees the three of them getting in Johnny’s car and driving back to Ten’s apartment. It’s Taeyong’s day off from the convenience store, and usually he’ll be counting the minutes until he’s home, face bare and ready to sleep for the entire day, but Ten said he would make breakfast and they could hang out with his new neighbours.

Ten kicks the back of Taeyong’s seat like a child. “Hey, does your convenience store sell edibles?”

“Yeah?” Taeyong answers, dubiously. “Depends on what you call edibles. We have tortilla chips and a freezer full of dairy products.”

“Perfect,” Ten audibly grins. “I wanna make tortillas, let’s go there.”

Johnny sighs and changes lanes. He sends Ten a glare through the rear-view mirror and receives a cheeky smile in response. Taeyong snorts and fights the sleepy haze that threatens to pull him under, the large hoodie he stole from Hyungwon warm and comfy. Minhyuk had thrown it at him after he accidentally spilled a bottle of make-up remover on Taeyong’s shirt.

“I think Changbin is still working,” Taeyong says around a yawn. “Jaebum gives him a longer shift on the days I’m not working.”

“Don’t you think you need another worker?” Johnny asks. Taeyong shrugs one shoulder, too sleepy to say something to that. “Well, tell Jaebum one of my workers needs a second job.”

“Xuxi?” Taeyong asks. “Didn’t you recommend him to Dongyoung already?”

Johnny waves him off, shaking his head. “No, no, I meant Mark. He’s new, came in after Yukhei. He’s a good kid.”

“Okay, well, tell him that if he’s interested he should bring his curriculum.” Taeyong’s eyes slip closed. Ten’s snoring in the backseat already, so Johnny keeps quiet after that.

He wakes them up when they park outside of the store. As Taeyong predicted, Changbin is slumped over the counter, hoodie pulled over his head. Ten makes a beeline for the dairy products, Johnny in tow, while Taeyong slips behind the counter and rubs Changbin’s back. Changbin awakens with a snort and a confused sweep of his eyes across the store, but he settles down when he sees it’s just Taeyong.

“Hey, we’re here to raid the store,” Taeyong tells him. Changbin mumbles something back. “Just sleep for a little bit, I’ll handle it.” Changbin doesn’t need to hear that twice. Taeyong smiles when he hears him begin to snore again and leaves him like that.

Taeyong browses the aisles, following the instructions Ten gives him across the store. It’s quiet, still too early (or late) for any cars or pedestrians to be on the streets, so he doesn’t even need to speak loudly. Taeyong can hear him just fine over the noise of the small TV mounted on the wall.

Johnny, basket hanging from his fingertips, comes to his aid when Taeyong whines he doesn’t have enough arms to carry so much crap. In the meantime, Ten stocks up on enough cheese cream to kill anyone before dumping it in the basket.

Changbin rings them up through droopy eyelids, barely able to see the computer screen. Taeyong takes over him, equally tired but too worried about his dongsaeng to care about that. Jaebum walks through the door then, beanie pulled over his head and tired bags under his eyes, and although he seems surprised to see Taeyong he doesn’t say anything about it. He does look over Changbin worriedly, however.

“Hi,” Taeyong waves. “We need another worker.”

Jaebum sighs. His beanie comes off and his hair tumbles over his eyes, fried blond in desperate need for a retouch. No matter how many times Taeyong tells him he can help, Jaebum insists he likes it like this. “I know. There just aren’t many people willing to work the graveyard shift.”

“I know a guy,” Johnny pipes up, mouth full of chips. “He’s young and needs the cash.”

“Great, he’s hired,” Jaebum says, “tell him to swing by.” He disappears into his tiny office, his sigh audible as he begins to riffle through the paperwork.

Taeyong bags their groceries and slips the money into the envelope, adding a tip to Changbin before closing the machine. He avoids awakening him until the very last second, reminding him to drink water, and, “Your breath smells like coffee.”

They’re at Ten’s apartment complex soon. Ten balances a paper bag in one hand and struggles with the gate with the other, jiggling the key until the lock slides into place and he can push the door open. The small, unkempt garden courtyard in the middle of the four buildings is cold this early in the morning, and the fountain hasn’t seen water in years. Still, Taeyong thinks it’s pretty.

The elevator ride to the fifth floor is shaky, more than once the box jolts and the lights flicker on and off. Still, it’s better than their place. Taeyong examines the graffiti on the walls, humming in amusement at what is obviously Ten’s drawing of a triangle inside another triangle.

“Put the stuff in the kitchen while I get the guys,” Ten instructs them, dumping his own bag on the kitchen table. They line up the food as Ten goes across the hall, with Johnny stealing more chips from the bag even after Taeyong gives him the stink eye.

Ten’s apartment is bigger than theirs is, but not by much. It consists of a kitchen/laundry room, the washer tucked between the sink counter and the wall; the living room has a beat-up couch and a hanging chair, something too expensive for it to be anything but a gift; Ten’s bedroom is off to the far end of the apartment, and the bathroom is only slightly larger than their own. Still, Ten decorated it with little trinkets and random junk that _scream_ Ten and it makes it look much homier.

Seconds later, Ten re-enters the room, two boys in tow. Taeyong wouldn’t normally use the term ‘boy’ to describe them if he only saw them from behind, but their faces are too young to call them men. They both tower over Ten, and Taeyong as well, but they’re on par with Johnny’s height.

“John, Tae, these are my new neighbours. This is Jaehyun and this is Jungwoo,” he motions to them as he says their names, and then waves his hand in the direction of the others, “and these are Taeyong and Johnny. Now be friends.”

Johnny snorts. “It’s nice to meet you, friends. Ten talks a lot about you two.”

“Same here,” Jaehyun smiles and wow, that’s a pretty smile.

Jungwoo makes a sound of distress. “He talks a little too much. Seriously, make him stop.” His arms are laden with a jar of orange juice and what looks like homemade muffins, which he places on the kitchen table gingerly. Jaehyun is carrying two loafs of bread in a brown paper bag, and they smell freshly baked.

Ten claps his hands. “Well, let’s get breakfast, then! Taeyong hyung, why don’t you get started on the coffee?”

Breakfast preparations are a quiet affair. The radio, placed atop one of the kitchen cabinets, plays soft, night-time music. They butter half of the bread, the other half smeared in cheese cream, and the tortilla chips suffer the same fate.

After the nth yawn, Jungwoo clears his throat awkwardly and asks Taeyong quietly, “You okay? You can go rest on the couch while I finish this.”

Taeyong appreciates the concern, and he makes sure to show that in his smile as he tells Jungwoo not to worry. And he really doesn’t need to worry. Taeyong’s tired, yes, but they all are (from what Ten’s told him, both Jungwoo and Jaehyun work the graveyard shift as well, although he doesn’t know exactly what they d0) and it isn’t like Taeyong is too sleepy to be trusted to butter slices of bread.

Johnny moves the kitchen table, which isn’t much bigger than their own, to the middle of the living room so that they can sit on the couch and hanging chair. Ten goes into his bedroom and drags out a blue, cushioned chair that Taeyong has seen by his window before, so that everyone has a seat.

“I’m not sure how healthy this is,” Johnny says, examining a chip carefully, “or how gross it might be. I’m too scared to try this, here.” Taeyong stares at the offered chip, almost going cross-eyed with how close Johnny’s hand is to his face. “Come on, I don’t wanna be the one dying poisoned.”

Brows furrowed, Taeyong takes the chip and hesitantly brings it to his lips. He doesn’t want to eat it, his stomach protesting loudly and his head even more so, but Johnny’s looking at him and – and, of course, his eyes are too serious for the joking tone he’d used earlier. He’s testing him, Taeyong realises.

His gut twists. Taeyong is vaguely aware of how numb his hand feels, and his mouth dries at the new found information.

It isn’t as if he thought Johnny was stupid. He knew Johnny would realise something was wrong sooner or later, but he was counting on it being later. Preferably, when Taeyong got a handle on the situation.

Either way, Johnny is looking at him expectantly and the others have stopped what they were doing, more out of confusion than anything. It isn’t as if the others know what is happening, but it’s still strange to see them stare each other down like this.

Slowly, Taeyong bites down on the chip and forces himself to chew. It’s disgusting, and it makes him retch for more than one reason. His cheeks hurt with how much saliva he produces, considering this is the first bite of food he’s had in… he’s not sure how long. He gets away with it because he makes it a point to drink water and to eat the occasional bite of food when others are around, namely Johnny, but also Dongyoung and Dami.

Taeyong can’t help but cough and gag on the meal, but thankfully he can chalk it up to it being, “Disgusting, John, what the hell?”

Ten giggles, nervous and amused at the same time, and Jaehyun and Jungwoo laugh as well after a second or two. It doesn’t particularly defuse the mounting tension in the room, but it takes the attention off of Taeyong. Johnny watches him for a beat longer before cracking a smile, as fake as they can get, and turns back to the conversation at hand.

Taeyong swallows the mouthful of tortilla chip and places the rest on a napkin, thankful no one will be asking him to eat it. Ten cracks a beer and takes a large gulp out of it, leaning back on his chair and stuffing his face with buttered bread.

Things go a lot easier after that.

~

Jungwoo is the first to leave.

“Where are you going?” Ten wails, valiantly clinging to Jungwoo’s sleeve. His breath stinks of beer.

Jungwoo smiles, a little forced, and struggles out of Ten’s grip. Ten flops down on the couch face first, and he doesn’t move anymore. “I have a date,” Jungwoo says to the rest. “And I only have, like, an hour to get ready so I gotta go.” Jungwoo says the last part mostly to his roommate, but Jaehyun shifts in his seat and doesn’t look at Jungwoo.

Taeyong sips his water quietly while Jungwoo gathers his discarded napkins and throws them in the trash, offering him a smile when Jungwoo returns and bows lightly at them, “It was really nice to meet you both. I hope we can do this again,” he says sincerely, but then his eyes shift to Ten’s unconscious form on the couch and his face twitches.

The door shuts closed behind him with a creak. The living room is plunged into silence for an uncomfortable amount of minutes: Jaehyun’s eyes flicker from Ten to Taeyong, looking away when either Johnny or Taeyong catch him staring, and Johnny downs his coffee before he stands up.

“I’ll put him to bed,” Johnny says. He gathers Ten in his arms and hauls him off the couch, carrying him bridal style. However, he hesitates in front of the bedroom door, and he turns back to say to Taeyong, “I don’t think we should leave him alone. Tae, do you mind taking the couch? I know it isn’t too comfortable but his bed isn’t big enough for you two. I’ll bring the recliner here so I can keep an eye on him.”

Before Taeyong can answer, Jaehyun pipes up gently, “Taeyong hyung can stay with me.” At their perplexed stares, he adds, “I mean, Jungwoo won’t be back for hours, so he can take my bed and I’ll sleep in Woo’s. I’m pretty sure I can find something comfortable for him to sleep in, it’s no problem.”

“I – thank you, Jaehyun,” Taeyong smiles, “but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Jaehyun waves him off. He’s cleaning the area around him, and it’s just now that Taeyong realises he’s as tired as they are. “I offered, didn’t I?”

Taeyong wants to decline, but Johnny’s right: the couch isn’t comfortable at all. Besides, Johnny will be with Ten all day, or at least until they call him from the shop, and sleeping on a bed is very appealing after the long night he had.

“Alright,” Taeyong concedes, bowing his head. “Thank you.”

Jaehyun smiles, his cheeks dimpled, and Taeyong is breathless for a second or two. He snaps himself out of it and cleans his own mess, although it’s significantly smaller than that of the others. Two water bottles and a single napkin where he’d shredded bread after bread.

In the meantime, Johnny tucks Ten into bed. Taeyong sees him place a waste basket by his head and silently hands him a leftover water bottle when Johnny exits the room. Johnny takes it and thanks him with a kiss pressed to his temple, and then goes back to the bedroom.

Once they successfully return the living room to a cleaner state, Taeyong puts his hands in his pockets and says to Jaehyun, “After you.”

Jaehyun leads the way to his apartment. Taeyong, as a second thought, grabs Ten’s keys off the hook by the door and locks the door, just as a precaution. He hasn’t heard of anyone trying to break into an apartment in this particular building, but Ten did mention some robberies in the apartment complex.

“It’s not much,” Jaehyun says, almost sheepishly, “but it’s home.”

The layout is the same as Ten’s apartment, down to the one bedroom aspect. The door’s open and Taeyong catches a glimpse of two beds pushed against opposite sides before Jaehyun is moving past him and inadvertently blocking the view. Everything else is different, though: where Ten’s apartment is an organized mess, Jaehyun’s is clean and uncluttered, with cubby boxes stacked up in the living room and everything in its place.

“You have a lot of plants,” Taeyong notes. Potted plants line the windows, although Taeyong can only name the English ivy and the spider plant.

Jaehyun hums, needlessly wiping down the kitchen counter. “Yeah, those are Jungwoo’s, mostly. He makes me keep peace lilies in the bedroom,” he adds with a half-smile, “he says they filter out toxic substances or whatever, but I know he just doesn’t like the smell of smoke.”

Taeyong wrinkles his nose when Jaehyun has his back turned to him. “You smoke?” he asks.

“Occasionally,” Jaehyun says, in a tone of voice that says it’s more than the occasional cigarette. Still, Taeyong doesn’t push the subject and instead directs his attention to the flowers. They’re all well-kept, the floor has minimal dirt scattered around and only two or three leaves seem listless. In general, Jungwoo appears to have a hand for gardening. “Come on, I’ll find something for you to wear.”

Taeyong follows Jaehyun to the bedroom. Like the living/kitchen area, the bedroom is tidy on both sides. Someone made the beds and the clothes aren’t spilling out of the closet, but one side is distinctly different to the other. Taeyong spies personal trinkets here and there, along with an acoustic guitar propped against a wall.

Jaehyun digs around the closet for a minute and comes up with a pair of track pants and a loose t-shirt. “The pants are Jungwoo’s but the shirt is mine. He and I are the same size so I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference.”

“Thank you,” Taeyong takes the offered clothes with a hasty smile and waits for Jaehyun to either leave the room or direct him to the bathroom.

“Oh, right,” Jaehyun jumps. “I’ll, uh; I’ll be in the living room while you change. Yeah, okay.” His ears are red as he retreats.

As expected, the clothes are large on him. Regardless, Taeyong pulls them on and looks at his face in the mirror above one bed, noticing with a grimace that he’s starting to break out. Minutes later see Taeyong getting under the covers of Jaehyun’s bed, Jaehyun doing very much the same in Jungwoo’s bed. He’d given Taeyong a spare toothbrush so now his breath is minty fresh.

“Okay, well, good night,” Taeyong says into the morning air.

Jaehyun laughs. “Yeah, good night, hyung. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Taeyong hums in response, quietly doing the math in his head. It’s almost nine thirty now, and he doesn’t have to be at the club until 7pm, but he doesn’t want to impose too much on them, and Jungwoo will probably be home after noon. He can just nap for an hour or two and then sneak back to Ten’s apartment, take Johnny’s car keys and drive home to sleep the rest of the afternoon.

Yeah, that’s a good plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens....
> 
> if anyone is interested or willing to give me pointers on how to properly portray an eating disorder, i encourage you to DM me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/doitsushine92) or send me an anon message on [cc](curiouscat.me/doitsushine92) because i can do all the research i want and still not know what it's like, so please send me your pointers, opinions and (positive) criticism!! same goes for alcohol/nicotine addiction, since they're all featured in the story
> 
> however, i would like to point out that while this fic features these health issues, it isn't _about_ them, but about the characters and their journey to ~happiness~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: PAST CHARACTER DEATH DUE TO OVERDOSE, UNDERAGE DRINKING/SMOKING/DRUG USE, BINGING AND PURGING AND PANIC ATTACKS!!!!
> 
> another one, though smaller bc idk if it will actually bother any of you: ty has a panic attack and johnny freaks out and slaps him. it's a thing that i've seen happen and it's been done to me before, when the person does not respond to outside stimulus and is too deep in the attack, a slap does the trick
> 
> HUGE SPECIAL THANK YOU TO @sallen___ and @bleachjeong for helping me with this fic, this one goes to you mwah

Taeyong ends up sleeping in longer than he intended. He wakes up to the afternoon glare and to the smell of bacon cooking in a pan, his stomach rumbling in what has become secondary reaction instead of anticipation. A look around his surroundings is enough to remind him of where he is and why, and a bolt of embarrassment passes through his ribs. Groaning, Taeyong puts his head on his hands and berates himself for sleeping so late. 

After checking over his appearance in the small mirror and rearranging the bed, Taeyong leaves the bedroom. He thought he'd find Jaehyun in the kitchen, and he does, but he's surprised to see Jungwoo at the stove. Jaehyun, at least, seems to have rolled out of bed minutes before Taeyong, his hair still every which way and one cheek reddened with a pillow mark. There’s a cigarette butt peeking between his fingers, but Jaehyun quickly puts it away when he sees Taeyong.

"Good... afternoon," Taeyong says. Jaehyun waves and doesn't say anything, while Jungwoo offers him a perky smile and a greeting in return. If Taeyong didn't know any better, he'd think Jungwoo slept all night, except his eyes are as sunken as theirs are.

"I told Jaehyun we should let you sleep until I was done cooking," Jungwoo says conversationally, "'Cause when I came in, you looked too cute sleeping. And we know Ten's sleeping schedule is shit, so I figured yours was much the same."

Taeyong bows clumsily. "Thank you for letting me stay the night at your apartment," he says. "If Johnny is awake already, I'll get out of your hair in no time."

Jaehyun looks up, almost alarmed, but he doesn't get the chance to argue before Jungwoo says, "Nonsense! Here, I'm making breakfast for you two. I had lunch with my date but Jaehyun is a bad cook and you're our guest."

"It's no problem," Taeyong insists, ignoring Jaehyun's frown. "I should get going anyway, it's," a quick glance at the coo-coo clock on the wall tells him the time, "three thirty and I have to be at the club at five."

It's bullshit. He doesn't have to be at the club until 8pm, maybe, but he doesn't want to stay for brunch. He had enough to eat last night and he's supposed to be fasting until tomorrow morning. Taeyong tries to come up with a good enough excuse to bolt until Jungwoo says, "Actually, I think Johnny left already. I stopped by Ten's place to check up on them and he wasn't there." He doesn't look at Taeyong as he speaks. He seems to be too busy preparing their plates.

Cold water pours over Taeyong. Why would Johnny leave without him? Sure, on any other day he'd shrug it off and say he'll just take the bus with Ten later, but that won't be the case today. Ten's hangover must be killing him, Taeyong doesn't think he'll be going to work tonight, and then there's these two pushing Taeyong to eat something he doesn't want. Taeyong wants to go home, take a shower and nap until 7pm. He wants to see Johnny.

Except Johnny is starting to be suspicious of him. He's giving Taeyong strange looks, not just last night but the entire past week. Johnny seems to be watching him all the time now, especially during the few meals they share, and it makes every inch of Taeyong's skin crawl. 

Jungwoo scrapes the last of the bacon off the pan and presents the two with a nicely made breakfast: a sandwich stuffed full of chicken breast and bacon and eggs, plus cheese, ham, tomatoes, onions, lettuce, and at least three different types of sauces. Taeyong tries to hide his disgust, and he must succeed because Jungwoo doesn't look offended in the slightest. Then again, Jaehyun is already barfing down his sandwich as if it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

Very carefully, Taeyong takes a seat on the table with Jaehyun. Jungwoo smiles, all teeth, and says, "Bon appetite!"

Taeyong makes sure to thank him before lifting the sandwich to his mouth and taking a small bite. 

God, it's like taking a bite out of Heaven. Everything in the sandwich works so well; the bread isn't soggy, the egg is crispy, the bacon and the chicken are cooked perfectly, all the veggies are fresh and the sauces tie everything together. Before he knows it, Taeyong has eaten the whole thing. His stomach feels heavy and his throat feels full, even though he already swallowed it all, but now that the monster's been unleashed, Taeyong wants more.

"It was good?" Jungwoo teases them. Jaehyun and Taeyong give noncommittal grunts, too busy eating. Jaehyun has tomato sauce smeared around his lips, and Taeyong suspects he must look the same. 

Somehow, he talks his way out of their apartment and back to Ten's. His mind is on a single track, and that is to get more food. He finds leftover chips from last night and eats them while picking through Ten's kitchen. There's a can of tuna that he eats next, and while he's scarfing down the remains of a jar of pickles, Johnny comes out of Ten's room.

"Tae?" Johnny squints. "Are you eating pickles?"

You'd think Johnny would look happy to see Taeyong eating, and with this much gusto to boot. Instead, he looks sick to his stomach. Taeyong’s stomach sinks to his feet, and he dreads to know what Johnny’s thinking. He tries to play it off, however. The part of him that’s terrified to have Johnny see him like this - _He’s gonna make me eat even more now, oh shit_ \- is smaller than the part that wants to demolish the entire kitchen.

"Yeah. Hey, do you think we could go home now?" There's a tray of cookies he made the other day waiting for him. He'd meant to bring them to the club last night, but he'd been in a rush and forgotten. Now, those cookies are his.

Johnny takes another look at Taeyong and at the mess around him. He sighs and says, "Yeah. Let's go home."

During the car ride, Taeyong bounces his knees, taps his fingers against his thighs and bobs his head up and down to the rhythm of whatever it is that's playing on the radio. He nearly bolts out of the car when they reach their building, taking the stairs two at a time and barrelling through the door in his haste to eat.

They're right where he left them. The tin wrapper is a little wrinkled and there's two missing, which tells him Johnny ate them. Taeyong couldn't care less, taking one into his mouth. The cookies are big, round and covered in copious amounts of chocolate chips, and they crumble in his mouth. 

Johnny walks inside to find the tray empty, cookie crumbs all around them, and Taeyong barfing on the ground. 

~

Johnny lost his best friend when they were only 18 years old. 

His parents held his funeral two days after Sehun’s death. The funeral home was long, low and depressing, the air conditioner turned to the lowest possible temperature to give anyone inside hypothermia. Everything looked the same: fancy paintings decorated the walls of the halls, while the exhibition rooms were bare save for the red carpeting on the floor and the caskets of flowers. And, of course, the coffin. 

Two rows of seats for the mourners, though they made up less than half a dozen: Johnny, his parents and Sehun’s parents. Sehun’s mother hadn’t stopped crying in two days, her face permanently blotchy and red, while his father reeked of whisky. Johnny’s parents held it together for his sake, although Johnny caught his dad in the garage that morning, wiping his tears while storing away the baseball gear.

“It was an overdose,” was the official diagnosis. They found Sehun in the bathroom, a needle stuck in his forearm and his chin dripping with foam and vomit. They wouldn’t tell Johnny anything else, but he didn’t need them to say it to know.

With everything that had happened that year, Johnny knew it wasn’t just an overdose they found. He knew they had seen the bruises on his body, the blackness of his lungs, his liver and just, overall, the shitty state of Sehun by the time of his death.

Johnny wished he could say it was only the outside that was fucked up, that Sehun had been bright and happy until the end, but that would be the fattest lie of the century. The truth was that Sehun hadn’t been Sehun for nearly two years by the time his expiration date came around.

It started with the smoking. Generally harmless, all things considered, plenty of people smoke, Johnny thought. He refused to try it, because the smell was gross and he didn’t even want to think about how it might taste, but he didn’t protest much whenever Sehun lit a cigarette around him. For their entire sophomore year, Sehun carried gum sticks in his pocket and hand sanitizer to cover up the smell, and he smoked like a chimney when they were out of school.

Then, came the drinking. Sehun had started to hang around other kids, older kids, some in college and some dropouts, and they… _encouraged_ him to drink with them. Beer, vodka, tequila, anything they could get their hands on. Johnny never joined him at those gatherings, and he kept his mouth shut. Again, everyone drinks, it’s not a big deal, he said to himself, and he ignored the pit in his stomach.

Johnny wasn’t sure when the drugs come along. He went to Korea for the summer holidays, and when he returned, ready to brag about how much better he was at Korean than Sehun was, for sure, he found a stoned Sehun waiting for him on the steps to his house.

Johnny’s father was enraged, shocked and disappointed, all rolled into one. His face turned a strange shade of purple before he stomped into their home and slammed the door shut, hunting for his phone to give Mr. Oh a piece of his mind. His mother, on the other hand, pursed her lips and nagged until Sehun’s parents came to pick him up. Johnny was sent inside and told to stay there until they were done, but he’d peeked outside through the kitchen window and saw the adults screaming at each other, while Sehun sat right where he was before, leaning on the railing and his eyes far away.

Things spiralled out of control very quickly after that. Sehun would drink, smoke and get high more often than he would show up to school, with his attendance going downhill in the blink of an eye. On the times he did go, especially escorted to class by his dad with a firm grip on his shoulder, he either got himself thrown out of class for disrupting the peace or into fist fights during recess, which earned him suspensions after suspensions. 

Somewhere in the middle, they grew apart. It was their senior year and Johnny found himself, more often than not, roped into outings and study groups faster than he could blink. His time was entirely consumed by his other friends, by studying for his exams and by his preparations for college. The little free time he had, he spent it working at random fast food chains, hoping to save some money.

Johnny heard from Sehun through the grape vine. His parents pulled him out school; he got arrested; he was seen at a known gay club; someone ran into him one late night at an alley; he was arrested again; he’s in a gang; he’s a robber; he stabbed someone. Most of it isn’t true, obviously, and just to scare the freshmen. But Johnny knows who to ask, and he learns that Sehun was indeed often seen at clubs and bars.

When the rumours started to pick up pace, words of dealing and prostitution, Johnny decided to pay him a visit. He went to the Oh’s home after cramming for a chemistry test all afternoon and, winning smile on his face, asked Mrs Oh if he could see his best friend.

The look on her face was discouraging, to say the least. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, but she still allowed Johnny to go upstairs. Upon opening the door to a bedroom that, once upon a time, had been as familiar as his own, he understood why.

Sehun was but a shell of the boy he used to be. He was skinnier than it could have been considered healthy and his entire room smelled like a lot of things Johnny didn’t even want to think about. It was a miracle his parents hadn’t kicked him out yet, but he thought he knew why: they were in denial.

Well, they didn’t stay in denial for long.

Three weeks after the funeral, Johnny packed his bags and moved to Seoul. It wasn’t a rash decision, nor did he do it because he was mourning. He did it because that was always the plan, going to Korea for college, to live independently from his parents. His mom had hoped he would change his mind after everything that happened, but Johnny felt he had to leave even more strongly than he did before. There really isn’t anything left for him in Chicago, after all.

Moving to a different country is a strange experience. It wasn’t Johnny’s first time in Seoul, no, he’d been spending his summers there since he was a child, but there wasn’t a return ticket on his nightstand this time. Now, his bags were going to stay unpacked and his passport would have to stay in the drawer.

He hadn’t wanted his parents to help him with much regarding the move, because it felt like cheating. Johnny wanted to feel like an adult, and having your parents purchase your flight ticket and rent your apartment didn’t help with that in any way. Johnny had to stop his parents from flying to Seoul to stay with him indefinitely, because he didn’t want to feel watched, either. At most, he let them arrange an aunt of his to drive him from Incheon airport to a train station near his building, but that was it. Johnny found the apartment through online ads and, looking at the budget he would be living on, it seemed like the only option.

It wasn’t so bad, he tried to tell himself. It was small, but it was just him, he didn’t need that much space. Who cared if the bathroom didn’t have a door? It was fine, he was fine. After all, he was expecting to spend most of his time at college, so he wouldn’t be there so much time, anyway.

He was wrong. University was harder than he thought it would be, and it wasn’t just because of the language barrier – even though that was a bitch, no matter how much Korean he spoke with his parents at home. Johnny didn’t realise he was carrying Sehun and the shadow of his loss with him until he tried to befriend other people and failed. He kept comparing everyone he met to his best friend, and the fear of going through that again was too great.

Johnny kept to himself after the initial weeks, speaking to his classmates for group projects and other shenanigans but never going any further. If they thought of him as weird or asocial, that was on them. Johnny was fine with that. Whenever he wasn’t in class, he’d go to the library to study or he would be at work. At the time, he worked as a cashier at a warehouse, and he made enough money he didn’t need his parents to send him an allowance. They still did it, anyway, but Johnny didn’t need to touch it.

If you were to ask him, he didn’t know when things went downhill. His grades began to slip, his attention span went down the drain, and he would space out more times than he could count. It almost cost him his job, and it definitely cost him his scholarship.

A little voice in the back of his mind told him he was depressed. He didn’t mourn his best friend, he didn’t know how to cope with his loss and he was now paying the price. He didn’t listen to it, and instead worsened.

One night, he went out to a bar. Johnny wasn’t much of a drinker as a teenager, and after Sehun, he refused to touch a single drop of alcohol. He didn’t go there to drink, but rather to distract himself. He’d been frying his brain for days trying to come up with a way to tell his parents he dropped out of college – he was given a chance to recover the scholarship, but he refused it – and still came up empty handed. They were going to find out, one way or another, and he wanted it to be from him, but he simply didn’t know what to say. 

Perhaps after an hour of sitting at the counter, drinking coke and eating a burger a little too expensive for what he could afford, someone sat on the stool next to him.

Johnny was never one to ogle at strangers, but he couldn’t help it. This boy – he looked to be about his age, although his wrists were far skinnier than Johnny’s -, dressed in skinny jeans and a loose white dress shirt, held what seemed to be an entire galaxy in his eyes. His shoulders were narrow, the shirt practically swallowing him whole. His hair was dyed faded blond.

The stranger caught his eyes and, instead of doing what Johnny expected any sane person would – t0 turn back around, to scoff, or to ask if he needs anything – he smiled. And by God, if it wasn’t the prettiest smile Johnny had ever seen.

They struck a conversation. His name was Taeyong, as Johnny learnt. They were the same age. They were both college drop outs, though neither specified the reason. Taeyong gestured a lot when he spoke, with grand gestures that betrayed his enthusiasm, and Johnny will admit, he was star struck.

It was only for a few minutes, but Johnny felt like he knew him since a lifetime ago. There was something so easily endearing about Taeyong, and Johnny couldn’t help his disappointment when Taeyong ruefully informed him his date had arrived. It didn’t strike him as weird, then, how downtrodden he seemed, for someone on a date.

Johnny didn’t expect to see Taeyong ever again. Weeks passed and Johnny fell into a new routine, working from sunrise to sundown so he could feed himself, using the little time off he had to look for a second job. Eventually, he would find the job at the car shop, but that wouldn’t come for the next year and a half. First, he would meet Taeyong again.

It happened on a bus. Johnny was dead on his feet after a night shift, his head lolling against the window as he watched the streets pass in a blur. It was early enough that most seats were empty, so he was surprised and initially suspicious when a body falls on the seat next to his.

Johnny side-eyed the person with interest, about to open his big mouth to ask if they could move someplace else, when they beat him to it. “You shouldn’t sleep on the bus, Johnny,” they said, and Johnny knew that voice, “It’s dangerous, you know?”

“Taeyong?” Johnny asked, just to make sure. 

Taeyong smiled, a little on the cheeky side but with enough sincerity to show he was just teasing him. Johnny tried to smile back and hoped he looked even if just slightly presentable. Taeyong also seemed to have taken the graveyard shift, because his makeup was smudged around the edges of his eyes and, like Johnny, he looked ready to nap for a week. He was still drop dead gorgeous, which only made Johnny a little jealous.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Taeyong said. He cocked his head to the side and watched Johnny closely. “Are you close to your place?”

Johnny figured it was obvious how tired he felt, so he only nodded. “Yeah, about five minutes now. You?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong sighed and leaned his head against the headrest. “I can’t wait to go to sleep.”

“You and me both,” Johnny snorted. He wanted to talk to Taeyong, wanted to ask him about his day – well, night -, he wanted to invite him to have coffee with him. But his eyelids were becoming heavier with every second that passed and, besides, for all he knows, Taeyong could still be dating that guy from the other night. “How was your date?”

He thought Taeyong stiffened at the mention of his date, but it was over before he could really process it. Johnny might have just been seeing things. However, he didn’t miss the tightness in his voice when he said, “Didn’t see him again.”

“His loss,” Johnny murmured. Taeyong’s ears turned pink. Johnny didn’t have time to berate himself for his slip when the bus pulled over at his stop. “This is me. Will you get home okay?” he asked, suddenly worried. Taeyong looked too tired to keep his eyes open. “If it’s close, I can walk you there.”

The skin around Taeyong’s eyes tightened. Sore subject, then. Noted. Johnny, aware he had seconds to get off the bus, stepped over him toward the aisle and laughed awkwardly. “Never mind, sorry I asked.”

“It’s okay,” Taeyong whispered, “Thank you for offering. I’ll see you around.”

“Really?” Johnny didn’t mean to sound so eager, so desperate, but he couldn’t stop himself. He hoped the bus would run him over once he stepped out, Jesus. 

Except, Taeyong smiled, more sincerely again, and he nodded. “Yeah, really. I know where you live, now,” he teased. 

Needless to say, Johnny went to bed with a grin on his face.

~

Johnny wipes the tears and the snot from Taeyong’s face with a wet rag. Taeyong stopped crying perhaps half an hour ago, and he’s been staring at the wall ever since, motionless. Johnny’s handprint burns bright red on his cheek.

Taeyong, upon realising what he’d done, had started throwing up all over himself and the kitchen floor. Chunks of half-eaten food landed everywhere on his clothes and some of it got on his hair, but that wasn’t what upset him. He only started to cry when he saw Johnny standing there.

The kitchen, though dirty, would have to wait. Johnny tried to approach Taeyong gently at first, his hands raised in front of him in an attempt to pacify him, yet Taeyong had scrambled away from him, slipping on his vomit and almost hitting his head on the counter.

The next handful of minutes were a blur. Taeyong cried, scratched at his forearms and pulled at his hair, muttering to himself about things Johnny couldn’t understand, and didn’t think he wanted to, either. Johnny spoke in his gentlest voice possible, hoping to soothe him, but when it didn’t work, he did something he learned in school.

He slapped Taeyong. 

It wasn’t a harsh hit, far from it, but it did the trick. Taeyong stopped in his tracks and stared at nothing for a few seconds, and then his eyes lifted to meet Johnny’s. 

“Taeyong,” Johnny said evenly, “I need you to listen to me. Go to the bathroom, okay? I’ll clean up here.”

Taeyong looked spaced out, his mind far away, at least no longer hurting himself. Johnny made sure he got to the bathroom okay before focusing on the task at hand. He did quick work of cleaning the floor, throwing away the trash and mopping up the fluids before going to check on Taeyong.

The following half an hour, Johnny helped Taeyong out of his clothes and into the shower. It scared him shitless to see Taeyong so out of it, barely responsive to anything Johnny said or did, yet he forced himself to take it one problem at a time. Right now, he needed to clean him up. Sometime during the shower, Taeyong started to cry again. 

It wasn’t the desperate sobs of earlier, just fat rolls of tears dripping down to his collarbones. Johnny didn’t even notice them until he was drying him up, given how Taeyong’s breathing didn’t change, his chest didn’t move and neither did his shoulders. 

As he moved Taeyong to sit on the floor, his back against the wall, Johnny thought. Everything that just happened, only served to prove his suspicions. He’s known for months that Taeyong is sick, but he never had any way of proving it. Now that he’d witnessed first-hand what was happening, he has no idea what to do.

“I’ll go get you something to wear,” Johnny says to Taeyong. He doesn’t receive an answer. After he’s found Taeyong’s favourite pyjamas, he helps him dress. 

Later, as he wipes his tears, Taeyong comes back to himself. His eyes readjust, his breathing shifts to something more akin to normal, and his hand clutches Johnny’s so hard it hurts. 

“Johnny?” he asks, voice cracking. Maybe from disuse, maybe from the crying and the vomiting. “Why does my face hurt?”

Johnny’s heart burns with shame. “I slapped you. You were freaking out and I couldn’t – you wouldn’t calm down, I didn’t know what to do.” They all sound like cheap excuses in his head. Johnny wants to die from regret.

He expects Taeyong to be angry. And while his face does a funny thing, like he’s starting to be upset, his eyes turn understanding. “Oh. I see. Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re kidding,” Johnny blurts out. He’s ready to rant, to say so much – how can Taeyong be so okay with him hitting him? – but he ends up swallowing his words. There’s too much to unpack here. “Whatever. I hope you understand we need to talk about this.”

“About what?”

“Don’t play stupid,” he snaps. “You know exactly what. I understand if you would rather rest now, but tomorrow at the latest, we’re talking about this.”

Taeyong looks away. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit.”

“Not.”

They lock eyes. A battle of wills later, Johnny is the one who looks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed this chapter


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi,” Jaehyun’s dimple is on display, dear God, “Sorry I’m kinda late, my last client just wouldn’t leave.”
> 
> “That’s fine,” Taeyong shakes his head, both to show he’s fine with it and to clear his mind, “I didn’t wait long, I just got off.”
> 
> Jaehyun opens the umbrella and holds it over their heads just as the first drops of rain land on the pavement. “We should probably get going if we don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, sorry for the delay :( here it is, chapter 5!! special shoutout to my mom for answering all my hospital-related questions lol
> 
> tw for alcohol poisoning/overdose

They don’t talk about it the next day. Or the day after that.

A week goes by with Taeyong running out of the apartment before Johnny comes home from work, keen on avoiding him. He goes to the club earlier than he needs to be there, sometimes earlier than little Jinyoung is there to open, and makes himself useful in hopes it will keep the others from asking too many questions. After work, he goes straight to the grocery store and clocks in, staying long past his shift for “extra hours.”

Jaebum hired the kid from Johnny’s workshop three days after Johnny referred him. Mark is young and hardworking, if a little gullible, but he’s quick to catch onto things. This is a blessing and a curse; it’s a blessing because he learns how to work the cashier within fifteen minutes and it’s a curse because he starts looking at Taeyong with new eyes, no doubt aware something’s off with him and Johnny.

Whatever. Taeyong avoids his stares and focuses extra hard on his tasks, waving off all of Changbin’s worries whenever the boy turns puppy eyes on him, as well as telling Jaebum he needs to focus less on him and more on getting the soda refrigerator fixed.

It’s easier to divert the attention away from him at the grocery store because he’s been there for less time and neither Changbin nor Jaebum (or Mark, for that matter,) is close enough to him to feel comfortable pestering him. The club, however, is a whole different matter.

There’s Dongyoung. They’ve known each other for years, long before they even started working at the club together, and Dongyoung knows Taeyong better than either of them will let on. Their past together might not be something they talk about often, but they both know it’s there. The day after… the incident, Dongyoung looks at Taeyong and knows right away that something is wrong.

There’s also literally everyone else, that make it their job to worry about the others 24/7. More than once, Taeyong’s been part of the group that hounds someone else to take care of themselves, putting together care packages and the likes. Once, they all came together to help Dami prepare for her daughter’s kindergarten graduation. They help little Jinyoung study for finals and quiz Minhyuk before his, too.

The new location brought with it more customers and now they have a near-full house every night, which renders everyone too busy to stick their noses in Taeyong’s business. Furthermore, everyone has their own shit to deal with. And, by some sick twist of fate, it seems like everyone’s lives went to hell at the same time.

On Monday, Seungyeon is so out of it, she’s unable to tell left from right, and it has her tumbling off stage during her solo. There’s a gasp from the crowd of patrons as she lands on the floor with a thud, Taeyong and Hyungwon both trying to squeeze past the throng of people to reach her at the other side of the club, but a party of bridesmaids and a soon-to-be bride are there and help her back on her feet.

Backstage, while Chungha tends to her sprained ankle with their first-aid kit, Seungyeon tearfully tells Dongyoung that her kid’s sick and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to afford the medical fees on top of her nanny. Taeyong isn’t there at the moment, busy with a party in one of the VIP rooms, but he hears about it from big Jinyoung.

“He keeps having these horrible fevers,” she nearly sobs, “And I don’t know what to do! My sitter’s scared; she says she doesn’t feel comfortable taking care of him anymore because if something happens to him while she’s in charge, she wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt.”

“What did the doctor say?” Big Jinyoung asks, wiping eyeliner from her cheeks with a wet cloth.

Seungyeon sniffs and rubs her eyes, ruining her makeup even further. “They said it’s normal for kids to get sick when they’re little, but he’s not so little. He’s four already, he should be past these weird fevers.”

Dongyoung sighs, rubs a hand down his face, and tells her not to worry about it. He doesn’t give any explanation further, and Seungyeon knows not to ask.

The next day, Seungyeon receives a mysterious envelope on the mail with enough bills to pay for the doctor, the medicine, and a full month of night-time babysitting. The money, while not directly from Dongyoung’s pocket, is definitely his doing, and she comes into work that night with a bounce to her step and plants a smooch on his cheek that resonates through the empty room.

Wednesday night, the club tries something new. It’s something a few patrons have requested, or suggested, even back in the old location, and now they finally have the money to afford it. Dongyoung announced the theme a week early, to give time for everyone to practice and get used to the idea, and today they’re called in early to set up.

Taeyong stares at himself in the mirror and thinks, _I really hope we don’t have to do this again._  
Several others seem to be on the same train of thought. Hyuna pulls at the collar of her shirt, no doubt feeling suffocated, while Hyojong tries to tie her tie. Minhyuk is staring at his shoes in horror. Hyungwon and Dami sit shoulder to shoulder at the makeup table, their eyes unseeing as they look through the makeup bags and try to come up with something for each other.

Others are more enthusiastic.

Ten hasn’t stopped twirling around the room since they gave him his skirt, looking at his reflection with enough awe and wonder to keep it from being narcissistic. Big Jinyoung isn’t elated, exactly, but he barely batted an eye when Dongyoung gave him the clothes he was supposed to wear. Seungyeon looks at ease in her suit – then again, she forwent a shirt under the jacket, so Taeyong imagines she’s fairly comfortable.

“Let’s go outside, everyone,” Dongyoung knocks on the open door. Unlike the rest of them, he’s in his usual suit and tie. “We open in a few minutes.”

Minhyuk groans and stuffs his feet back in his heels. He’d taken them off as soon as they were done practicing, complaining his toes were being squeezed to death in them. Byunggon, Dami, and little Jinyoung all have to do it, as well, to keep the theme. Dami tugs at the bowtie around her neck with a grimace as she wipes down her bar, and Byunggon can be heard saying he doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep the sleeves of his shirt from falling into cups and drinks.

The night isn’t uneventful, though it goes better than Taeyong honestly expected. He thought it would be a complete disaster, and while there were some accidents – Byunggon does end up dipping shimmery shirtsleeves inside several cups, and Taeyong struggles to wade through the crowds wearing a dress – they make do.

The worst thing to happen is that, sometime after midnight, someone gets handsy with Minhyuk, a hand creeping too far up his thigh and under his skirt, and as he stands up from the customer’s lap on shaky legs, smile strained, his heels catch on a loose floorboard and he falls. This time, Hyungwon doesn’t let anything stop him from reaching him and practically carrying him backstage.

Taeyong follows them, partly because he’s worried about Minhyuk and partly because he needs an excuse to get away for a little bit. Hyuna is also on her way to the dressing room, where Hyojong said he’d be studying for upcoming finals.

As Hyuna opens the door to the dressing room, Taeyong right behind her, a shoe nearly decks her in the head. Instead, it hits the wall and falls to the ground. Hyuna makes an ‘eep’ sound and freezes on the doorway.

Minhyuk’s panting, barefoot and angry in the middle of the room. Hyojong can’t pretend he isn’t listening, staring wide-eyed at him. Hyungwon leans against the makeup table with his arms crossed.

“I hate,” Minhyuk puffs, “those goddamn shoes.”

Hyuna walks further inside and, carefully, as if approaching a cornered animal, she asks Minhyuk to sit down. After he does so, she kneels in front of him and checks his feet, telling him, “You have a few blisters. You should put ice on them when you get home, and try not to be on your feet until tomorrow night.” When Minhyuk doesn’t say anything, barely grunting in response, Hyuna frowns and says pointedly, “You’re welcome.”

“Fuck off,” Minhyuk snaps.

Taeyong stops halfway to the mini fridge. Not because Minhyuk cursed – that’s not something he would call strange – but because Minhyuk has never spoken to anyone in that tone. Hyuna, too, looks more worried than offended, shushing Hyojong gently when he tries to defend her.

Hyungwon sighs and says, “Min. It isn’t her fault.”

Minhyuk doesn’t raise his head. Taeyong has to bite his tongue to stop himself from prying, although Hyuna has no such qualms. “What’s going on, Minhyuk?”

After several beats of silence, Minhyuk grumbles, “I’m about to flunk out of college’s what’s going on.”

“He’s not going to flunk out,” Hyungwon rolls his eyes, “He’s failing a class. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I’m on a scholarship,” Minhyuk hisses at him. “There’s no way I can afford tuition so if I lose that scholarship, I’m screwed.”

“What are you having trouble with?” Taeyong asks softly. He doesn’t want to upset Minhyuk further.

“Just. Engineering stuff,” Minhyuk says.

Hyojong, visibly perking up, asks, “You’re an engineering student?” As Minhyuk eyes him warily, Hyojong continues. “It’s just; I have a friend who’s also in engineering. He could help tutor you, if you want?”

“I can’t afford a tutor,” Minhyuk mumbles. It appears the fight has left him, and instead he’s now tired.

Shaking his head, Hyojong says, “He wouldn’t charge you for it. He isn’t, uh, short on cash, exactly. Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ll give you his number.”

Hyungwon ends up being the one entering Hyojong’s friend’s number into his phone, because Minhyuk is grumpy, and Hyuna beams at her boyfriend in joy. Later, as they prepare to go back to work, Minhyuk grumbles about how much he hates the skirt and heels. Hyungwon, quietly, says, “I think you look nice,” and Minhyuk stops complaining immediately.

At the grocery store, Taeyong receives stares all morning, and he suspects he has leftover makeup on his face, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s dead on his feet (ironic, considering he tries not to stand up too much, the soles of his feet are blistered beyond belief) and counting the seconds until the end of his shift.

Mark comes around the counter several times, obviously trying to keep Taeyong awake through the morning. Taeyong doesn’t have it in him to appreciate the gesture. The most he can do is eat the cup of yogurt Mark puts in his hand, and later down the soda can that Jaebum very clearly puts on the counter next to him.

Taeyong perks up when Jaehyun walks through the door, however. It’s nearing noon, which means Taeyong’s shift will be over soon, and he’d been fantasising about his bed when he saw the younger boy enter the store.

Jaehyun’s dressed nicely, although not very fancy. Taeyong guesses he must be working, and came here during his lunch break. Jaehyun either doesn’t notice him right away or is waiting for the counter to be empty of patrons before strolling up to Taeyong, two cans of beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other.

“Hey,” Jaehyun greets him. “You look like shit.”

Taeyong snorts. He rings up the items through the system and starts bagging them while Jaehyun counts his bills. “Thanks. I worked all night and then came here for my shift.”

“You must be exhausted,” Jaehyun frowns. He hands the proper amount over, and then slides an extra bill for tip. “When do you get off?”

A quick glance at the clock hung behind the counter, then, “One hour from now.”

“Oh, well,” Jaehyun smiles, and _oh, no_ “Maybe I’ll come around in an hour, walk you home? I have an appointment right now, but then I’m free until the evening.”

Doing his best to ignore the ache in his chest, Taeyong nods jerkily. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

Again, Jaehyun smiles, and it’s just as blinding as the one before. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Yeah. Bye,” Taeyong manages.

Once Jaehyun’s gone, Mark wanders out from the back of the store and raises his eyebrows at Taeyong. “Hyung, are you okay?” Taeyong, face down on the counter and pretending to be dead, doesn’t answer him.

For the following hour, Taeyong fakes being a functioning human being and employee, putting on his best customer service smile whenever Jaebum steps out of his office or there are buyers in the shop. When they’re left alone, Taeyong groans and pities his luck.

There’s a minor slushy murder in aisle 3 sometime around the half hour mark, which Taeyong mops up with the energy of a sloth. The child’s mother is all apologies as she holds her kid’s wrist, looking properly horrified, but Taeyong whole-heartedly tells her not to worry about it. He doesn’t say he doesn’t care about a damn slushy.

“Hyung,” Mark tries again as Taeyong hangs up his work apron in the small employer’s lounge – which is about the size of a matchbox and fits approximately half a person at a time – and reties his shoelaces. “Hyung, you don’t look real good. Are you sure you don’t want me to call Johnny?”

“Don’t call him.” Taeyong swears he tries to use a cheery tone, but all that comes out is a strangled squeak. “Seriously, Mark, I’m fine. Jaehyun’s a friend and he’s gonna walk me home because he knows I work all night. Don’t bug John while he’s at work.”

Mark doesn’t look convinced. Then again, the kid constantly looks on the verge of tears whenever he’s around Taeyong, so he’s used to it. Mark worries a lot, Taeyong learned this within minutes of their meeting, and there aren’t enough words of reassurance that will erase the kicked puppy eyes.

He doesn’t just do it to Taeyong, either. He worries about Changbin’s less than stellar sleeping habits, going so far as to rat him out to his girlfriend when she stops by the store to pick him up at the end of his shift.

(Then again, Sana smiles and says she knows, she tries too but Changbin is too stubborn to listen to anyone else. Mark only frowns further and stares at Changbin until he relents and promises to take a nap as soon as he gets home.)

Mark also worries about Jaebum’s constant eye bags and coughing, which only seem to get worse as his smoking goes up to two boxes a day instead of one. Taeyong is used to Chungha smoking like a chimney, so it doesn’t particularly bother him that their boss smells like a barbecue party, but Mark insists on giving Jaebum gum sticks instead of handing him the cigarette packs when Jaebum asks.

Taeyong hangs outside the store for a few minutes while he waits for Jaehyun. His backpack is heavy with random junk Jaebum packed for him – as he did for the other two, saying something about all his employees being skinny as hell and how he doesn’t want any of them passing out at work – and with his clothes from the club. It’s dark out today, the clouds heavy with impending rain, and Taeyong briefly considers going back inside to borrow Jaebum’s umbrella – he has a car, anyway, - until he spots Jaehyun walking toward him, umbrella in hand.

There is absolutely no excuse for his breath to hitch when he sees Jaehyun. Taeyong plasters a smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look as pained and conflicted as he feels.

“Hi,” Jaehyun’s dimple is on display, dear God, “Sorry I’m kinda late, my last client just wouldn’t leave.”

“That’s fine,” Taeyong shakes his head, both to show he’s fine with it and to clear his mind, “I didn’t wait long, I just got off.”

Jaehyun opens the umbrella and holds it over their heads just as the first drops of rain land on the pavement. “We should probably get going if we don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

“It does look like it’ll get heavy,” Taeyong comments, fully aware he’s talking to Jaehyun about the weather, as if they’re strangers. _We kind of are._ “I hope it lets up by night, ‘cause I need to get to the club by foot.”

“I thought Johnny hyung drove you there?” Jaehyun asks. “I mean, that’s what Ten said.”

Ignoring the red that spreads across Jaehyun’s cheeks, Taeyong says, “Yeah, he does. But lately I’ve been going in earlier to help set up and Johnny’s usually still at work by then, so,” he shrugs, hoping it’s enough to make Jaehyun forget about it.

Thankfully, Jaehyun directs his attention to something else. Unfortunately, that something else is Taeyong’s health.

“Ten hyung also mentioned,” Jaehyun starts, hesitantly, “That you’ve been feeling sick lately. Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?”

Taeyong supresses the urge to roll his eyes. Or to throw a tantrum. With a deep sigh, Taeyong shrugs and feigns nonchalance, saying, “Ten’s a worry wart, always has been. I wouldn’t pay much attention to what he says.”

Jaehyun snorts, as if amused by Taeyong’s wording. “He said the same thing about you.”

“Did he?” Taeyong raises an eyebrow. That’s interesting, but not unexpected. He’s always been told he worries too much. Usually by Ten himself, or Dongyoung. The guys at the club, too.

“But, you’re okay, right?” Jaehyun asks again.

Taeyong looks at him, intent on convincing him that everything’s fine. Instead, he’s met with wide, earnest eyes, and a genuine sense of care, and it throws him for a loop.

Taeyong knows his friends care about him. He knows Johnny’s worrying and meddling comes from deep love, he knows Dongyoung considers him one of his closest friends, he knows Ten has lost sleep over him when Taeyong had a health scare years ago.

But his group has always been tight knit. Those three and the club. He isn’t used to having so many people ask him if he’s doing alright, especially those that are virtually strangers to him. Jaebum, Changbin, Mark, and now Jaehyun.

Jaehyun, who’s honestly asking if he’s okay, because he wants to help. Because he’s trying to get close to him, as a friend or something more. Taeyong isn’t sure what Jaehyun wants.

“I’ll be fine,” Taeyong says.

~

Taeyong flops face down on the mattress and screams into his pillow. They recently bought a new bedframe, which is sturdy and can take Taeyong’s dramatic flairs. And other things, that aren’t very important at the moment, but the mere thought of them is enough to set Taeyong’s face on fire.

He really, really doesn’t have time to be crushing on anyone right now. Especially not Jaehyun, who’s Ten’s friend. Taeyong has enough shit on his plate with Johnny to be thinking about another boy.

Even if said boy has a pretty smile. And a dimple. And smells nice.

Taeyong groans, though he doesn’t scream again. He doesn’t have the energy for it. Without noticing, Taeyong falls asleep, and when he wakes up again, the sun is significantly lower in the sky and his stomach is rumbling loudly.

He hasn’t eaten much today. He had that yogurt and the diet cola, and nothing else. Taeyong does a quick mental count, deems it safe to have one more thing before reaching his 500 calories limit, and goes into the kitchen to hunt for shirataki noodles.

He’s eating his noodles while watching a children’s show on TV when Johnny comes home. Taeyong nearly chokes mid-bite from the surprise, staring at Johnny’s body like he’s never seen him before. Truth be told, he feels a little like he hasn’t seen him in years.

Johnny seems surprised to see him, too. However, the surprise gives way to determination and Taeyong’s tummy twists itself into a knot. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, not yet.

“Taeyong,” Johnny starts.

“I have to get ready for work,” Taeyong interrupts him, jumping off the counter.

“Taeyong,” Johnny says once more, firmly.

Taeyong dumps the cup of noodles in the trash. He’d eaten most of them, anyway, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it.

“We need to talk.” Taeyong doesn’t answer. Johnny audibly sighs and rubs his face with both hands. “Please, Tae. Talk to me.”

Taeyong’s heart breaks. He doesn’t like it when Johnny’s upset, and he doesn’t like it when he’s the reason, either.

Johnny sits on one of their kitchen chairs and pats the other pointedly. After a few seconds of hesitation, Taeyong sits, too.

“Mark told me Jaehyun walked you home today,” Johnny says, awkwardly. Taeyong curses Mark under his breath. “I was worried you’d be walking home after working all night.”

“I always do that,” Taeyong points out.

“And I always worry.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk about? Jaehyun?” Taeyong narrows his eyes.

Johnny closes his eyes, shakes his head, and says, “No. Not really. I wanted to talk about what happened the other day.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taeyong looks away.

“Cut the crap, Taeyong. How long have you been doing that?”

“Doing what?” Taeyong asks. Purging? It’s actually uncommon for him to do it. He doesn’t like the mess it leaves and he doesn’t like how much his throat hurts afterward. Binging? He doesn’t do it often, either.

“How long have you been eating everything in our fridge only to vomit seconds later?” Johnny asks, blunt. “How long has this been going on?”

Taeyong doesn’t answer. He can’t really pinpoint when everything started, if he’s being honest. When lowering his daily calories intake turned into documenting the width of his waist and wrists, or when it turned into skipping meals altogether.

Johnny slumps in his chair. He looks exhausted, much how Taeyong feels. At least, it’s nice to know this separation isn’t draining just Taeyong.

“Tae,” Johnny whispers, “Please, talk to me. I just want to help you.”

“And I appreciate that,” Taeyong says, “But there’s nothing to be worried about. I’m fine.”

A heavy silence falls over them. Taeyong fidgets under the weight of Johnny’s gaze, suddenly too aware of his exposed arms and collarbones. He’d opened a window earlier and the draft that comes in is too cold, cold enough it makes goosebumps break across his skin.

Taeyong’s close to breaking when Johnny’s ringtone goes off. Johnny visibly considers declining the call, but in the end he decides against it and brings the phone up to his ear, saying, “Hey, Ten, I’m a little busy at the moment -” then stops.

Johnny stands up abruptly, knocking his chair back. Taeyong stares at him in alarm as Johnny asks for directions before he hangs up, looking at Taeyong as he says, “That was Jungwoo. He says Ten had an overdose and they had to take him to the hospital.”

~

Jungwoo rushes to them as soon as he sees them burst through the doors to the emergency room. His face is stained with tears, mascara and eyeliner a complete mess around his eyes. He has a rumpled handkerchief in his hands. On the chair next to where he was sitting, Jaehyun’s still holding the umbrella he’d had earlier in the day.

“Oh, thank God!” Jungwoo exclaims. “I didn’t know who else to call, Ten’s never mentioned any family and yours was the first number I found.”

“It’s okay, thank you for calling me,” Johnny says. “What happened?”

Jungwoo tries to speak, but it’s hard through the tears. He’s clearly panicking, too upset for words. Taeyong guides him back to the chairs and Jaehyun helps Jungwoo sit down, patting his thigh reassuringly.

“I got home, like, half an hour ago,” Jaehyun tells them, “And Jungwoo was knocking on Ten’s door. He’d told me last night that they would be watching a movie before Ten’s shift at the club. Since Ten wasn’t answering, I opened the door with my key – he gave it to us a few weeks ago, in case of an emergency.”

At this point, he stops and takes a deep breath. Jungwoo’s still crying. “We found Ten on his couch. He was unconscious and sweating a lot. There were, like, a shit ton of empty beer cans around him. He wasn’t responding to anything so I poured water on him and it woke him up, but he was delirious so we called an ambulance.”

Jaehyun reeks of cigarette. Taeyong notices this as soon as he sits down next to him, his legs too weak to hold him up after the news. There’s also a nervous bounce to his legs and he’s incessantly tapping on the edge of his chair with the hand that isn’t on Jungwoo’s thigh. Jungwoo, on the other hand, isn’t moving, but he’s crying as he looks down at his lap.

“Jungwoo?” Johnny asks quietly, concern etched in his features. “Are you alright?”

Without answering, Jungwoo nods and stands up, all but bolting for the bathroom. Watching him, Jaehyun sighs and says to Johnny, “His mother overdosed when he was thirteen. As you can imagine, this isn’t really something he needed to see again.”

“Oh.” Johnny blinks. Taeyong can see he’s thinking about his best friend – he hardly ever talks about him, has only mentioned it in passing once or twice to Taeyong, but he knows this man better than anyone else. Taeyong can see every thought as if it were displayed on a billboard.

“Ten’ll be fine,” Taeyong says, almost a reflex. He’s gotten so used to those words, he doesn’t even notice he’s said them until two pairs of eyes turn to him. Neither looks confident.

When Jungwoo returns, the doctor is right behind him. After he confirms that Ten doesn’t have any family he should be speaking to – “His parents are in Thailand,” Taeyong tells him, “And they’re not really on speaking terms.” –, he informs them of his status.

“He has alcohol poisoning, as Mr. Kim told the paramedics,” the doctor begins by saying. “We found 2 litres of alcohol in his system. The human body has 5 litres of blood. When he was admitted, he was hallucinating and he was hypertensive. We will keep him hospitalized for 72 hours, or until our tox screens come back negative.

“He will have two IVs attached at all times to hydrate him, and we will be monitoring his electrolytes as well as administering B complex to minimize the intoxication. If you’d like, you can go see him now. He’s awake, but not very lucid, so make it quick.”

Their group of four thanks the doctor before going toward the back of the emergency room, where the patients are. Ten’s awake, yes, but he looks tiny and lost in his hospital gown, swaddled in blankets because he gets cold easily and the AC is on full blast. There are two needles stuck to his arm, both connected to different bags.

Neither asks about the overdose, or says anything about rehab, even though Johnny’s clutching the flyers the doctor gave him. They ask Ten how he’s feeling, Jungwoo helps him tuck his hand into the blanket when he complains his fingers are numb, and Jaehyun offers to buy him some sour candy from the cafeteria.

Taeyong excuses himself, telling them he’ll call the club to let them know neither him nor Ten will be coming into work today. Johnny looks like he wants to go with him, but Ten asks him something and Taeyong takes the distraction to slip away.

Dongyoung sounds infinitely disappointed and saddened to hear the news, but not exactly surprised. Taeyong supposes it was a long time coming; Ten drinks beer more than he does water, regardless of what anyone said. Dongyoung promises to swing by in the morning and then makes Taeyong promise _him_ that he’ll be taking care of himself, as well.

Taeyong really doesn’t like that everyone’s acting like this, all of a sudden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the reason i left chungha and dami with their stage names because in-fic they don't use their real names at work and prefer to go by fake names

**Author's Note:**

> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1o14euSyZWulMeuxaWa6Tu?si=UT-ckfcdTpS_PzjVd9lp3w)
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/doitsushine92)
> 
> [my nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/glitterinjun)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/doitsushine92)
> 
> [nsfw cc](https://curiouscat.me/glitterinjun)


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